Hieronymus Boosh
by GrandEclectus
Summary: PROUD to be completely NON-slash. The boys are re-united but they're unhappy about each others' lifestyle choices. Vince wants to rule the Earth w/ Polly Headra. Howard has found the New Sound, but it's Vince's worst nightmare: It Came from the 50's
1. Revenge with Yorkshire Pudding

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife

Sequel to: Love Potion Number Zed (makes sense to read that first)

Rated: PG, T -- Some mildly scary stuff.  
Fandom: The Mighty Boosh  
Categories: Angst, Adventure, Fantasy, Humor, Parody, Friendship/Bromance  
Homage to: Ray Bradbury's "The Jar"

Disclaimer: Just fan fic. Don't own 'em. Just borrow 'em to toy with them a bit. Also, I re-iterate: JUST FAN FIC.

Hieronymus Boosh

With taunts still ringing in his ears, Howard fled the Nabootique and hastily set off to nowhere. The night gripped the city streets, making the world appear colorless, foreboding. The full Moon was taking a nap behind the clouds, oblivious to the doings of lost humans such as Howard.

Howard adhered to back alleyways and twisted side streets, seeking surroundings that matched his sense of desolation. He could still see Vince laughing at him, ridiculing him for his foolishness. He had made a horrible mistake, he would admit that much. In a twisted sort of way, it was good fortune that he had failed. If he had really concocted a working Love Potion, it would have cost them both dearly. The thought kept him going as he plodded on into the spitting rain.

He walked for hours, losing his bearings, abandoning his sense of direction. He had no destination planned. He felt he no longer belonged anywhere.

He dug into his pocket, felt the money and a crumpled list that Naboo had given to him in what seemed liked years ago. Howard thought back to their conversation over the list of supplies.

"_Listen Howard, this is important. You must to go to K'hoohoo's Place, ask for Hieronymus," Naboo ordered._

"_I can do that," Howard claimed._

"_I want you to get everything on this list. Follow this list to the letter. Do not get anything else. Understood?"_

"_Yes."_

"_There is enough money for what is on the list. No more. No less. "_

"_Yes."_

"_Do not even look at anything else."_

"_Got it. You can count on me, Naboo."_

"_Harold will mess up," Bollo growled._

"_Now see here! Howard TJ Moon can accomplish any task or tasks given him and he will do so in an efficient and timely manner sir!"_

_Bollo rumbled a low disgusted sound._

_Howard ignored the ape, but he was extremely tired of the perennial disrespect he faced from his so-called friends._

Howard came back to the present and checked his personal balance sheet. This was not only about this most recent affront, something he would admit he brought down upon his own head. This was about Howard's life in general.

His best mate abused him at every turn. Naboo treated him as if he were a low grade moron and Bollo, when he was not ignoring him completely, showed nearly vitriolic disdain for his very existence.

It was a sorry state of affairs, and one which did not fit with Howard's aspirations and self-image.

He would show them all someday. His ship would come in. The cows would come home. The swallows would return to Capistrano. Howard TJ Moon would be a big man someday and then everyone would have to respect him.

"Revenge," Howard thought, "is a dish best served with a side of Yorkshire pudding and a pint of stout!"

Tbc…

Supportive reviews are always appreciated.


	2. Down the Darkened Alley

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife

Part 2

**Down the Darkened Alley**

As bitter as Howard was, he knew eventually he would have to return to what he now jokingly thought of as "home". He had pledged to get the items for Naboo, and if he at least carry out that task as he had promised, it would be one less fault they could find with him, one less opportunity to berate him.

Howard realized he should not have waited this long to go on Naboo's errand, but this is how it turned out to be. K'hoohoo's shop was open 24 hours, so he pressed on.

The streets of London never seemed as dark as they were now. It felt as if the buildings were closing in on him. He hastened his step. He thought he was nearing K'hoohoo's Place, which drew him deeper and deeper into a very dodgy area of town. He thought he heard whispers from the crevices. He sensed he was being watched, as if eyeballs were boring into him, cataloguing his every move and informing their malevolent owners of his complete vulnerability.

The thought of Naboo's disapproval catapulted him forward into the unknown.

He realized that under normal circumstances, Vince would be with him. Going through life without Vince would be horrific at best, but what he could he do? Howard feared that his ties with Vince were close to being severed forever.

Howard thought he recognized some familiar places and hastened his step. The street lamps flickered out suddenly, and Howard collided with a large drape of heavy canvas. It felt like hitting a cinderblock edifice. The canvas buffeted him for a small eternity, and when light was visible again Howard found himself standing in front of Bob Fossil, who was gadding about dressed as PT Barnum.

"I thought I smelled the rutting stink of a plantation worm!" Fossil exclaimed. "Who let you out of your blueberry cage, Moon? Is it turkey season in duck town?"

"Get away from me!" Howard retorted. "You're an idiot!"

"Oooo! Must have been a bad day at the baloney factory," Fossil taunted. "Listen Moon! I'm watching you!"

"Are you?" Howard said with defiance.

"I read in the Evening Scum that you and Vince are on the outsies!" Fossil said, producing a tattered rag of a red titled gossip magazine.

"You what?" Howard asked in disbelief. "How in the name of Weather Report did they decide to print that drivel?"

"That's goodie goodie time for me, because now I can be Vince's best friend, not you!"

"You're insane!"

"Well, you're a stinky stink stank!" as he ran off, skipping like the fool that he was and completely forgetting about Howard. "Toucan Sam wants to spank you so hard!" he shouted to no one.

Howard looked up to see a large red and yellow sign that proclaimed: "Bob Fossil's Sideshow A-Rama". Why was Bob Fossil ever put in charge of anything at all? Even something as shambolic as a sideshow seemed above his meager abilities.

Howard immediately sought an escape, but the tent seemed to grip at him again as if he were caught in a web.

When Howard managed to move freely once more, he happened upon a neon lit section which drew his attention. It was the brightest thing he had seen in the wilderness of this night and he headed toward it as a moth toward a blue lamp. It seemed to be the stall for an occult shop. Maybe he could find Naboo's items at this place.

In front of the tented stall was a rickety little side-show stage replete with a variety of peculiar objects. The bizarre tableau overflowed with occult supplies and offerings: tarot decks, wands, astrological charts, cauldrons, books, candles, ingredients and herbs.

An intensely creepy full body monkey mummy sat near the center of it all. The monkey's glaring glass eyes seemed to focus on him, targeting him, at once repulsing and drawing him in toward the lurid thing.

But what held people's attention was not the grotesque dead animal. Several people stood staring intently at the marvelous object in the middle of the exhibit, each of them mesmerized by its mysterious appeal.

This peculiar item stood at the center of the collection, nestled right next to the hideous monkey mummy. Howard's brain had trouble assembling the image of it, as if it were materializing in front of him. After a few moments the object seemed to form into a rather large Snow Globe.

While its form had finally registered as solid, its contents remained out of focus. Again Howard's mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.

Bits inside it seemed to float around, suspended in the clear liquid. In the dark, under the neon, the colors seemed to shift as well. Was that an eye, a bone, some hair? Did it move? Did it heave, as if breathing? Was it a scene? How deep did it go? It seemed to be only a few inches inside, and at the same time it seemed stretch into the infinite.

Howard began to have visions of Jazz, as if the music were taking tangible form. He saw himself as the center of attention, with beautiful women hanging on his arms. He saw himself as a star at a Jazz club, buying drinks with a wallet filled with an endless fountain of cash. Many people begged for his autograph. Jazz greats pleaded for his advice. It was all too perfect.

A woman emerged from the curtains. Howard was floored by her gypsy beauty, and felt as if he had just fallen, the wind knocked out of him.

Despite the distraction of the swarthy beauty, Howard could not look away from the Snow Globe and the visions it put before him. He stood mesmerized by the thing, this object he could not comprehend.

The lovely woman reached in among the display and took the Globe to her ample bosom. She shook it gently and returned it to its pedestal. It must have contained at least two liters of water, maybe more. The movements within the Globe elicited gasps, "ooohs" and "aaaahs" from the group. Howard's gaze was transfixed to it with the same rapt attention as the others around him.

Howard became aware of the regard the other onlookers gave to the Snow Globe. Each of them gaped at it and murmured in awe of what they each thought they saw in it. Whispers hissed from each one, reminding Howard of the eerie sounds he had heard on his journey here.

After some time, the gypsy covered the Globe, causing an outcry from the people who were held transfixed.

"I must close now," she told them. "Go, and think about what you have witnessed here. Tell everyone you meet."

They pleaded with her to permit them stay, but she told them she could not allow it. They could come back when she opened the next night. Finally the group dissipated leaving Howard, the gypsy and the Globe alone.

She slyly regarded Howard with special interest and in the absence of the glass Globe, he found himself staring at her and dumbfounded. She approached him quickly and grabbed his hand, running a talon-like long-nailed finger down his palm. His head swam with female attention.

"You have a destiny," she informed him. "Is this not true?"

"No. I mean, yes," he stuttered, not sure of the negatives. "I believe that I, Howard TJ Moon do have a marvelous destiny."

"I see a loved one in your life, one who has betrayed you," she informed him levelly. "For this transgression, you are very bitter."

"How can you know these things about me?" he asked. "So specific. So accurate."

"I have broadband," she told him, pointing at her crystal ball.

She led him into her lair and he passed behind the curtain almost without noticing.

"That is quite a…" Howard stumbled for a word. "Quite a thing you have there."

"Yes. Yes it is," she said quietly.

"A man who owned one of those…" he began.

"Yes?"

"Well, he would be well thought of," he concluded.

"A man who owned the Globe could have any dream he desired," she agreed.

He thought of how each person stared toward the object as sunflowers riveted toward the sun. That was power. That was admiration.

"But for me, the Globe and I are to part ways," she informed him. "It has become a burden to bear. I'm not sure what to do with it."

Howard thought for a moment. "Well, I could maybe," he began slowly, "look after it awhile."

"Oh, I could not ask such a thing of you, a great man. Surely it would be a problem for you."

"I think I could fit it into my schedule," he volunteered magnanimously.

He lost time.

When he became aware again, he was sitting on a rough-hewn wooden bench in front of the stall holding the cumbersome Globe on his lap. It had been hastily wrapped in a dirty piece of canvas. Naboo's list was crumpled in his hand, but he knew he had given the gypsy all the money he has possessed—all of Naboo's money. He no longer cared.

Quietly, a slight, stylish man approached gingerly and sat next to him. Vince softly greeted Howard with a tentative "Alwight."

"Vince!" Howard exclaimed happily and then remembered to be angry.

"I've been looking for you all night Howard," Vince said. "I was worried about you."

"Why did you bother?" Howard retorted. "It seems I'm nothing more than a joke to you. Did you need another laugh?"

"It's not like that at all, Howard."

The dawn illuminated the remains of the tenting. The sideshow it seemed had been swept away by the morning light. There was a clear path to the street and Howard wondered why he did not see it before.

"What you got there?" Vince inquired, smiled and made a move to pull back the canvas covering.

"Never mind that," Howard said brusquely and lugged the heavy object away as much as possible. "It's not for you to see."

"Oh come on. What is it?" Vince persisted.

"I'm not speaking to you," Howard told Vince.

"What? What is it you're doing now?"

"I'm informing you of my new policy."

"What policy? You have a policy?" Vince said skeptically.

"Yes, I do."

"Well?"

"The policy is that I do not speak to you," Howard said with finality.

"Howard?"

"Yes?"

"Ahhh!" Vince teased, pointing his fingers playfully at Howard. "You're speaking to me!"

"Look! That's enough! I'm not speaking to you and that is final."

The two sat quietly for a moment.

"Howard?"

"This is the very last time!"

"Do you remember when we used to talk? About stuff?"

Howard's eyes narrowed. He knew what was coming next. It was how Vince always got to him.

Tbc….

Supportive words of encouragement are always welcome!!! Spicy reviews are yummy!!!


	3. Big Man in Town & Little Man Unknown

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife  
still heavily a homage to Ray Bradbury's "The Jar"

Part 3

Howard knew that he could always be manipulated by the little chanting game that he and Vince often played.

So Vince began.

"Gotta lotta stuff," Vince prompted.

"Gotta lotta stuff," he continued, but Howard found himself falling right into it despite his inner protests.

"Stored up in my brainpan

"Gotta write it down

"When the voices talk to me

"Write it down

"Let it out

"Write it down

"Let it fly

"Hoo Hoo Silly chatter

"Hoo Hoo Nonsense patter

"Whoooa! Zap!"

"It won't work this time!" Howard insisted, pulling himself away from the bonding force of the crimp.

Howard rose from the bench, his prize in his arms then stomped off toward home. Vince hopped up and followed, matching Howard's brusque march toward the Nabootique as best he could as he followed at Howard's heels.

**Big Man in Town**

To Howard's relief, Naboo had been called away on an emergency Shaman affair. He would not have to explain his purchase to Naboo, and perhaps he could still fulfill the errand he was given.

Howard set the Snow Globe on the counter and the electric reaction was immediate. Each person who walked by the Nabootique was instantly drawn into the store as if they were a puppet being jerked in by a string.

Soon there was a gathering like at the gypsy's stall, and Howard had to bring chairs from everywhere he could to accommodate the crowd.

In this viewing area, customers could (and would) sit for hours and muse about what they were seeing.

Howard was vigilant about withholding his find from Vince. He kept one of Vince's fanciful capes on hand and whenever Vince sauntered near, Howard would hastily drape it over the display. His action would cause groans and complaints from Howard's following and aggravate Vince to no end. It gave Howard his much-craved sense of power.

A mousey little woman in a frumpy dress got up from being a fixture in a chair and waddled toward the Globe.

"I think it's my washing from last Tuesday," she ventured. The others turned to her without taking their eyes from the Globe.

"How's that Mrs. McGillicutty?" one finally prompted. The group had been together so much, they knew each other's names.

"It's my washing that I left in the tub. You know how it becomes all moldy and mildewy smelling if you leave it by mistake."

That concept hung in the air awhile.

A scruffy looking body trudged to the Globe as a zombie.

"I think it's me mate Ralph what drowned in the Thames," said Dan Ermine, the professional weasel wrangler.

His comment elicited an audible gasp from the group.

"Well, he din'nt actually drown and it wa'n't the Thames. He really just got his head stuck in a bucket what once held water, probably from the Thames."

"Whatever happened to him?" Joe Talleyho asked.

"Dunno, but if it was 'im, right, then 'e'd look like that thing there in the Globe."

"There's nothing in the Globe!" said Dizzy Cauwe to the group.

Another audible gasp as the gang heard that suggestion.

"Hear me out!" she insisted. "It's like a mirror, into your soul! What you see there is what is inside you. Sometimes it shows you want you want to see. Sometimes it shows you your worst fears. But, it always wins in the end!"

Her offering was quickly dismissed as nonsense.

Meanwhile, Vince was out of his mind with curiosity. He was very hurt that Howard would not let him see the Globe. He could not tolerate being excluded from Howard's social group; to him, it was a fate worse than death.

One night, after the crowd was gone and Vince was certain that Howard had finally succumbed to exhaustion, Vince crept down to the shop for a little look-see. Nothing could be as wondrous as they all said. Anyway, it was something everyone was doing and he could not resist the allure of the siren draw of a trend.

Slowly he approached the thing, looking guiltily around for Howard. He tugged at his colorful cape that served as its cover. At first the cape would not move and give up its secret, but suddenly it rolled back and the Globe caught him instantly, like a mousetrap snapping on its unwitting quarry.

tbc…

Thanks reviewers! I appreciate the boosts! I could not resist posting this installment! Kind and thoughtful reviews keep me going!!!


	4. Fashionista Faux Pas

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife

Part 4

Vince was pulled in through a glittery vortex of light. An endless collection of toys swirled around his helpless form. A monkey doll clanged its symbols together and chattered its jagged teeth. A rag doll flopped feebly in an eddy of force. A toy truck, a plane, a train spun out of control. Doll houses and clothes. Plastic dinosaurs and board games. Each item danced around Vince barely missing him.

The toys looked very old, yellowed and many were broken. The dolls looked sad, their faces turning to Vince as if appealing for help. But, Vince could not help himself. He was being pulled along with all the other flotsam and jetsam that twirled in the frightening magical stream.

Vince finally came to a rest in an impressively large but hopelessly cluttered toy-maker's workshop. An enormous carousel seahorse stared at him; its rhinestones glinted in the yellow illumination. A giant Jack-in-the-Box swayed back and forth, its white-gloved hands seemed to reach toward Vince. A beautiful gypsy tarot reader mannequin sat in an ornate booth, waiting for coins to be offered in exchange for her gifts of insight.

"He he he he he he!" an elderly man chipped. "What do we have here?" he exclaimed with glee, tapping his half fists together as a child would to signal "Goodie! Goodie!"

"Ah…where am I?" Vince managed to blurt as his breath came back to him. He ran his hand through his raven locks.

"Yes, yes! Just what I've been hoping for, one such as you! You are beautiful!"

"I am quite good looking," Vince agreed. "But what am I doing here?"

"I can use you very nicely!" the Toy Maker ignored his question. "Such a pretty thing! You shall be a Harlequin!"

The man reached to touch Vince, who instinctively backed away, out of his reach. Vince had been the object of many unwanted advances; he was expert at fending them away.

"Who are you?" Vince asked warily, but not yet realizing he should fear this creature more than any he encountered before.

"Put this on," the Toy Maker ordered, holding up a parti-colored outfit.

"Wha? That?" Vince scoffed. "That look is so five seconds ago! Haven't you heard? Jacobean ruffs are definitely a fashion faux pas this week! Nehru jackets, now that's all the rage. I'm also expecting Geek Chic to sweep the world."

Vince's objection was also ignored, and he somehow found himself in the very outfit that he found repulsive.

"I'm not 'aving this!" Vince tried to remove the garments, but found they were fusing with his body and becoming part of him. He tore at them, only to find he was hurting himself.

"Ah! Get this off of me!" Vince yelled, now properly terrified.

"Perfect!" was the only response. "It's taking to you good, just like I knew it would!"

"Hey, don't quote the Stones! I'm not 'avin' you defiling Mick 'n Keith too!" Vince insisted, anger rising in his voice.

Vince was finally afraid of the crazy old man, because anyone who would dress him this far against the fashion dictates was someone who could not be trusted.

tbc…

Please R&R


	5. You've Really Done it This Time, Howard!

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife

Part 5

**I'll Be a Big Man in Town**

When Howard opened the shop in the morning, everything appeared to be in order. The cape was back over the Snow Globe. Howard had no inkling it had ever been pulled away. There was no sign that the insidious trap of the Snow Globe had sprung like a rattlesnake, claiming the unsuspecting Vince as its victim.

People waited outside and Howard allowed them in to take their places as if for a religious ceremony. Howard had become the Man About Town since he brought the Globe to the Nabootique. He was feeling very full of himself, even dressing in his best tweed with his finest elbow patches.

**Here We Go**

Howard had not seen Vince all day, but assumed he had spent a night with his gadfly fashionista party-hardy mates and had crashed in someone else's bedroom. Howard told himself he did not care where Vince was, but as the day went on, he found he could not stop thinking about the younger man's whereabouts.

The inevitable happened, bursting Howard's bubble. Naboo returned with faithful Bollo at his heels.

Howard braced himself when he saw the silhouette of the turbaned figure appear at the door.

"What is this?" Naboo asked sweeping his hand around at the seated group. But his gaze was riveted to the Snow Globe. Images of his home world, early childhood, the wild time with the… Naboo steeled his mind against the magic of the Globe but one flash of information leapt before his trained Shaman senses: something terrible had happened to Vince.

Naboo grabbed Vince's old cape and threw it over the thing. Groans of agony yelped from the mesmerized group.

"What do you think you're doing?" Naboo scolded Howard in what for him passed as a scream. "This is bad juju! We can all get in a lot of trouble for having this. Don't you ever learn anything Howard?"

"Now see here, Naboo," Howard started, emboldened by possession of the Snow Globe and inured of Naboo's disapproval. "I…"

"You lot, get out of here!" Naboo commanded Howard's group of worshippers, who reluctantly dragged themselves out of the store.

"Where did you get it, Howard?" The Shaman's scorn began to burn Howard yet again.

"It doesn't matter, Naboo! It's mine!"

"Where's Vince?"

"I have no idea," Howard told him truthfully. "And, I don't care," he lied with force.

"I have an idea," Naboo said, his voice reverted to a dangerous calm. "Bollo, get my Opal, the big one, and recharge the carpet. We've got to go save Vince from a fate worse than death—again. You've really gone and done it this time, Howard!"

"You said that last time."

"Well, this time it's even more true!"

"What do you mean 'a fate worse than death'. Isn't that a bit melodramatic? Vince is probably with some bird in Shoreditch, sipping Mimosas, lolling naked on satin sheets and exchanging tips on big hair and garish make-up."

"No, he isn't," Naboo said enigmatically. "He's in there," he lifted his chin slightly in the direction of the Globe.

"What?"

"That's not just a regular magic Snow Globe, Howard. It's a passageway to another world and I'm afraid it's got Vince."

"Vince has never seen the Globe," Howard said.

"Are you sure?" Naboo asked. "Have you been here every minute? When's the last time you saw him?"

It began to dawn on Howard that there may be something to what Naboo was telling him and he panicked. If he had hurt Vince in any way, he would never be able to live with himself.

Bollo brought Naboo the Magic Stone and Naboo waved his hand and 'read' the air.

"Oh no, it's worse than I thought!"

"What? What's going on?" Howard demanded.

"It's Vince and he's really suffering!"

"Arrrh!" Howard blurted in frustration, now very afraid for Vince. "What is happening to him?"

"It's horrible! Horrible!" the Shaman reported. "I can barely watch it!"

"Naboo! We've got to do something now!" Howard said alarmed. "What is going on with him? What do you see?" Howard feared the worse. He had his own visions of Vince splayed out, suffering, bleeding, broken beyond repair.

Naboo finally reported: "Vince has been dressed out of fashion! There's no time to waste! Bollo, how's that carpet?"

"Still charging," Bollo told him. "Fifteen hour recharge cycle."

"He what?" Howard asked, completely mystified.

"We've got to leave it, go by magic," Naboo told them.

"Well then, I'll just pop off," Howard attempted lamely. "Got an errand to run for you, so…"

"Forget it Howard! You caused this mess. You're the first one in!"

Naboo raised his hand and levitated the rangey Northerner from the floor and catapulted him toward the Globe. Howard barely had time to struggle, but did have time to let out a loud yelp of abject terror. He grabbed at items in the shop, knocking Stationary Village into hopeless disarray. He resisted as if he could stave off Naboo's magical grip. Howard did manage to grasp a rare limited-edition collectible reproduction trumpet bearing a genuine facsimile autograph of Satchmo himself. It was one of Howard's prize possessions, but he held onto it now out of reflex, as if the brass instrument could possibly save him from his fate.

On Naboo's instructions, Bollo ripped the cape from the Globe and in an instant Howard found himself hurtling down the same opalescent maelstrom that claimed Vince. He could see Naboo and Bollo in his wake, floundering amidst the rain of toys along with him.

This was turning out to be a very bad day.

tbc…

Reviews == Love


	6. I'm Only a Berk in a Gilded Cage

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife

Part 6

**I'm Only a Berk in a Gilded Cage**

The twisted little man was laboring near his delicate new prize doll. Vince had been making such a fuss over his new apparel that the Toy Maker had to place him into an ornate golden cage. Vince was his new masterpiece and he congratulated himself with glee.

"When I finished my dissertation at Apocalypse, I went straightaway into another program," the Toy Maker recounted. "I didn't think it was possible, but I hardly slept during those days, but it was worth it."

"Yeah, that's nice," Vince said with annoyance. "Can you let me out of here now!"

Vince felt he could not keep his eyes open as the Toy Maker waxed endlessly about his education. Vince huddled down into the cage, hugging his knees to his chest.

"I was interested in the effect of phrama-hypnosis on subjects, that is to say, use of potions with psycho-suggestions, on my subjects. I actually killed about 48 humans before I got one that didn't die, and then he became catatonic, turned into a barnacle and jumped into the River Styx. I guess he's still there. Those were good times!"

"I'm telling you mate, if you don't let me out of this outfit the Fashion Police will set you right!" Vince warned more concerned about his apparel than his imprisonment.

"Now, now little one! You'll love your new life, believe me!"

"Not dressed like this, I won't!" Vince huffed. "Could I at least have a nice silk scarf?"

"No."

"What about a cashmere sweater from this season's line?"

"Doesn't work with the collar."

"Oh," Vince said, with realization. "You're right. But, this is the longest I've ever been out of cowboy boots!"

Vince tugged at the Jacobean collar to no avail. No part of the colorful costume could be removed. The diamond shaped multi-color patches contoured his physique. Three large pom-poms stood out on his chest. Topping his ebony shaggy locks was a rather impressive jester hat with jumbo bells on each of the three points.

It was bad enough that Vince was a prisoner of this strange creature and that he was clad in the ludicrous outfit, but the Toy Maker was overtly self-impressed and obsessed with his education.

The Toy Maker continued to ignore Vince's objections. He was infinitely pleased that this beautiful little Harlequin would so quickly be prepared do his bidding. He emitted self-satisfied tones and 'humphs' at erratic intervals.

His tone changed to "huh?" when he saw a ridiculous trio of would-be rescuers appear at his feet.

He was still chortling over his latest find when the motley group materialized. Upon becoming aware of the new arrivals, the Toy Maker surreptitiously waved his hand, casting yet another spell over Vince.

With a thud, they landed. Slowly, painfully they pulled themselves off the rough wooden floor, adjusting bruised body parts as they rose. Howard had managed to land on his trumpet denting the prized object and causing him considerable pain. He still clutched it; it felt like a touchstone to reality.

"Alright, you cheeky lot! Gemme outta here!" Vince demanded from within his cage. "This berk's got some weird ideas!"

"Ah look! An Ape Doll! An Aladdin! Excellent! But, what to do with you," the Toy Maker pondered, puzzled at how a Howard Doll would fit into his schemes. He tried to poke Howard, but Howard's revulsion for being touched caused him to pull away.

"Maybe a World War One soldier," he mused to himself.

"I'll have you all sorted out in no time," the Toy Maker said to himself.

"Not this time, Toy Maker," Naboo told him. "Where's Vince?"

"I'm right here!" Vince called. "In front of you, you idiots!"

"Who?" the Toy Maker feigned ignorance, pleased that his spell to hide Vince in plain view had worked so well. The group could not hear nor see the frightened fashionista.

"You know who," Naboo said.

"Vince raven-haired beauty!" Bollo started, but was signaled off by Naboo. "Blue eyes, like crystal lakes."

"I get so many through here, you know," he lied. "Can't keep track of them all. You'll just have to forget about him."

"I don't think so. Bollo?" Naboo signaled for Bollo to grab the Toy Maker but Bollo was instantly stopped, frozen in place by a spell from the malevolent little man.

"Do I know you?" the Toy Maker asked Naboo as he drew his spell casting hand down with a stylish flourish.

"Maybe. I've read about you in Shaman school. You're really just a nutter who's obsessed with turning people into dolls so he can send them to do his evil bidding."

"That's what they said about me?" the Toy Maker's vanity peaked. "Go on."

"That's about all there is, really," Naboo lisped calmly, as if he were having any other normal conversation.

"That's all they say? That I'm just a nutter… Now see here! I happen to be a very advanced Demon with degrees conferred upon me from several fine institutions of higher demonology. I hold Platinum-level standing in the Astaroth Consortium and I have special honors bestowed upon me from Beelzebub University and Asmodeus College and…"

"Yeah, that's all well and good, big man," Howard barged in, "but I'm Howard TJ Moon, and that's all you need to know right now, sir!"

"Who's this berk?" the Toy Maker asked Naboo.

"Ignore him," Naboo instructed. "We always do."

"Thanks a lot, Naboo," Howard shot sarcastically. "Where's our friend? Where's Vince?"

"Howard!" Vince yelled with frustration, his voice straining with fear. "I'm right here! Can't you see me?" Vince was not pleased with being invisible since no one would be able to admire his good looks. Then he realized that his unfashionable garb could not be viewed and he calmed down a bit.

"What degrees and honors do you have conferred upon you, Aladdin?" the Toy Maker challenged.

"That's Naboo to you! And I hold a Bronze Certificate from Camden College for Technology and Magic Crafts," Naboo informed him proudly.

"Naboo pass with gold star," Bollo bragged through clenched teeth.

"What?" the Toy Maker "You went to a technical institute for magic, and you think you can defy me?"

"Unbelievable!" Vince groaned realizing that the demon Toy Maker was far better qualified to harm him than his wannabe defenders were to rescue him.

"Impressive," the Toy Maker shot sarcastically. "You don't know who I really am, Nay-bob! It seems a shame to destroy you, so I won't. You and your monkey will fit nicely into my collection. As for you," he said to Howard, "I will make do."

His faux sweet features became distorted as he brought his hands up, poised to strike a spell at the trio. Naboo pushed Bollo's frozen form aside and grabbed Howard. The spell meant to bind them missed and zapped a gaping ragged hole in the floor of the workshop.

The boys teetered at its edge, grabbing futilely at one another. Howard still held his precious trumpet. Naboo said some magic words and Bollo began to move again, but it was too little too late.

The Toy Maker appeared nearby, determined and ready for another strike. This time his lightning bolt spell hit the trio in no uncertain terms and they fell through the hole, landing in a pile of gruesome-looking doll parts.

"So, you want to see your Vince again!" he cackled. "I can arrange that for you!"

Vince watched the scene in horror and despair as he saw his friends disappear into the jagged hole.

"Nooooh!" Vince yelped. "Howard!"

Did Vince just witness the death of Howard, Naboo and Bollo? Did he and his lifelong best mate Howard just part from one another forever in an unreconciled state? Vince felt as if he had just been hit by a freight train.

The Toy Maker approached the cage and Vince recoiled as far away as he could but to no avail. The cage was too small for him to go far. In a flash, Vince found himself in the hand of the braggart Demon like the diminutive Faye Wray in the clutches of King Kong. It was the last thing Vince remembered.

tbc…

outtake:

"Here in the Blunder Blite it says that Vince is having hanky panky with Na'an Bread but I know that's not true, because he's in love with me!" Fossil said to himself.


	7. The Spirit of Music

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife  
Introduces Mr. B Natural from the eponymous Mystery Science Theatre 3000 short.

Part 7

Howard's world went black, wrapped in a velvet storm. He thought he was dying. He could see his life pass before his eyes and his mind's eye settled on one particular incident.

Howard was an awkward boy at best. His only mate, Vince was at ease with everyone, except for a few chav bullies who did not like his stylish apparel and striking good looks.

Neither one fit with the other. Howard was mawkish and shy with no other mates but Vince. Vince was self-assured, gregarious and loved by all though he was only close with Howard. He was constantly on the move, going to parties and any social event available. Howard stayed at home, listening to Jazz records and reading adventure and expedition books.

Howard and Vince watched each other's backs, and it was at this time that their unlikely friendship—or was it a natural alliance—was born. Howard stood with Vince against the chavs. Vince kept the rest of the class from overly teasing Howard, though he often engaged in the more light-hearted jokes at Howard's expense.

Howard wondered how to fit in. He stopped short of being envious of Vince, though he would have liked to be accepted by others.

Howard could not consume enough Jazz and his love of the music buoyed him up through the lonely times. He spent his time immersed in its intricacies and memorizing and practicing scats.

One day, he was at his locker when a gaggle of other youngsters came near. He braced himself for the inevitable abuse, but they were more interested in talking about the latest pop records and getting together for a listen. One boy was talking about band practice and his aspiration to gain the first trumpet position.

Howard watched them with longing like a stray cat peeping into an aquarium. He craved to be with them, but felt there was an insurmountable barrier between him and them. If only he could find a bridge to get to their world.

Little did he know that an answer was about it rear its head. He was being observed, and his longing was the very thing that opened a door to another dimension.

After Howard left his locker, it opened slowly. An eyeball peered out and a glint of powder-blue poked out through the opening.

"What's this?" a shrill voice asked. "Did someone call me?"

The being slipped back into the locker and disappeared.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Howard's room as a youth was simple and neat. Jazz LPs lined the walls, and his prize trumpet was in its place of honor. He reached for the instrument, but when his hand touched the cool metal he heard a rustle and felt a presence behind him.

He turned quickly to behold the strange sight.

Standing in his room was an androgynous person dressed in a light blue Peter Pan-style outfit. Large black musical notations decorated the form-fitting suit. He/she had a pretty face and short dirty blond hair topped off by a sweeping Robin Hood hat made from the same power blue fabric as the jacket. His/her legs were clad in dark blue, skin tight pants.

"Mr. B Natural, at your service, Boy!" he/she chirped with a decidedly American accent.

"Who are you?" Howard asked with youthful wonderment. "What are you?" he inquired, puzzled as to why this person looked like a woman, and yet called himself "Mister".

"I'm the Spirit of Music!" he/she nearly screeched.

Mr. B Natural informed young Howard that his love for music had summoned her. She would guide Howard to a better life through music. She spent several hours with him, prancing about and talking about the wonders and benefits of a musical path. Howard was ready.

Immediately, he asked his parents for music lessons, and he assiduously began the difficult task of becoming facile with many instruments. He became quite accomplished, but unlike the promises made by Mr. B, it did not make him more accepted. He joined the school band, but was still apart from the rest, even though his skill soon had him elevated to the coveted first trumpet position, much to the chagrin of the former first player.

Only Vince remained his loyal friend and companion and though they never saw eye to eye on anything, they still had an inexplicable bond, a glue that cemented them together as a pair.

tbc…


	8. You Must REALLY Call on Mr B

Hieronymus Boosh  
by AnitaLife

Part 8

Howard came back to the present, still enveloped in the darkness and tumbling swiftly toward the unknown.

Howard was becoming increasingly annoyed with the way his day was going. First Naboo rained on his parade by revealing the truth about the Snow Globe. Then he was thrust into this insane quest to save Vince from bad fashion. Now he found himself once again hurdling through time and space to only Coltrane knew where. He did not see Naboo or Bollo, nor could he see much of anything. Unlike the tinsel and candy-coated passageway to the Toy Maker's workshop, this vortex was dark and foreboding.

He could finally see an eerie blue illumination, and was accosted suddenly by a cacophony of musical tones. Trumpets, kettle drums, saxophones, marimbas, church organs, violins, guitars, banjos, xylophones and a host of other instruments burst his ears, as if he were sitting in the largest orchestra pit in the universe while demented musicians engaged in a marathon tuning session.

The sound stopped suddenly and so did he. He was standing in a dark place, but some peeked through from no apparent light source. He was able to catch his breath and realized by some miracle he was still clutching his prized trumpet near his body. He was able to see the damage that had been done, and though it was certainly not his chief problem, it made him feel oddly depressed.

He became aware that he was not alone and he braced himself for the next misfortune.

"Boy!" a shrill voice called.

"Oh no," Howard intoned. "Not now!"

"Boy!" the light-blue clad he/she called to him.

"Mr. B. Natural! This is just great." Howard said sarcastically. "How does that 'Mister' work anyway?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" he/she chirped, his/her cheery attitude in no way dampened.

"Old friend? You warped my life!" Howard accused. "You promised me a life of friends and popularity. Instead, I'm…"

"You have the Spirit of Music in your life every day! Everywhere you go, everything you do, the Spirit of Music is there!"

"Yeah, that's great," Howard said. "Well I really don't need this right now! How do I get out of here?"

"Anytime you reach for that trumpet, you reach for me!"

"Not…really," Howard said warily.

"Anytime you strum a guitar, you caress me!"

"Not intentionally," Howard said under his breath.

"You were ready to take music into yourself. Let it fill you! Let it control you!"

"Look, this is getting really weird," Howard told him/her. "Can you help me get back to my own time and place or are you just going to get more shrill?"

"Boy!" Mr. B cried again, standing legs apart and hands on hips.

"I have a name you know!" Howard said, his annoyance at the fore. "I'm Howard TJ Moon, Jazz Maverick."

"You called for me, Boy!" she said, sidling up to him.

"Did I? With all this tumbling down weird passageways, I probably called for someone but I'm fairly sure it was not you, sir!"

"Called for the Spirit of Music!" Mr. B let out.

"Look, we've been through all this, yeah?" Howard shot. "You're not helping!"

"Knew your father, I did," Mr. B announced.

"Yes, yes, you knew my father. You say that every time, but somehow he never got 'round to mentioning you," Howard said with disgust. "Can you at least get me out of here?"

"First you must _really_ call on me!" he/she pointed both fingers to his/her chest. "Take me inside of yourself!"

"Oh no! I've already had a host of problems with the Spirit of Jazz," Howard began. "I don't want a repeat of that. I just want to get my friends and go home."

The mention of the Spirit of Jazz caused Mr. B Natural to pause, and for a second lose his/her cheery attitude.

"Spirit of Jazz. Yes, he's one of my subordinates," Mr. B said through pursed lips. "And very unruly at that! Always trying to possess people's souls and the like. I'll have to have another talk with him."

"You do that," Howard deadpanned.

"I'm the Spirit of Music! I'm in you and in everyone who calls for me!"

"Look, this is not getting us anywhere, is it? To this day, I'm still haunted by you poncing into my life when I was young and impressionable! If you're not going to help me, just get out of here then and leave me to rot."

"Had the power in you all along, you did!" Mr. B informed Howard. "All you need to do is call on the Spirit of Music!"

"Look, say that one more time and I'm ramming this trumpet down your gob!"

Mr. B Natural then proceeded to do an odd little dance, running around Howard and leaving him feeling disgusted and hopeless. He sat down on the floor and sulked, finally thinking of Vince's fate as well. He had set off to help his friend, and now they were both lost.

Ultimately, all of this was his fault. He had fooled around with that daft love potion. He had brought the Snow Globe into their lives. He had left it unattended, knowing full well that Vince would have to be entranced by it sooner or later.

The thought of Vince lost somewhere, perhaps in pain, crept into his consciousness. Howard became increasingly depressed. When they parted, they were barely speaking, hardly friends at all. Howard was wracked with regret. Regret at the whole incident with the potion, closing Vince out of his latest and greatest find, the Snow Globe, just out of misguided spite. He wanted to apologize or at least simply go back and stop behaving like a twit. He wanted to hear that painful electro nonsense from Vince's boom box, or was it punk rock this week? He wanted to hear Vince's voice fronting for one of their mutual projects or see him poncing about in some outrageous outfit. He wanted to crimp with Vince once more.

Mr. B Natural stopped her lunatic dance and stood near him, her happy demeanor worn thin.

"Do I have to spell it out for you, Howard?" he/she asked, uncharacteristically annoyed. "Are you going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself forever?"

"What are you on about now?" Howard huffed. "I've lost my dearest friend and I'm alone in this horrible place with a nutter who just wants to gad about like an insane butterfly on a hotplate in a cheap hotel."

Mr. B stood above Howard, his/her arms crossed as she tapped his/her boot-clad foot.

"Blow the damn trumpet, you idiot!"

tbc…


	9. On Christmas Day in the Morning

Hieronymus Boosh

by AnitaLife

Part 9

Howard blinked as if he had been slapped silly and then looked at the twisted once-prized "rare limited-edition collectible reproduction trumpet bearing a genuine facsimile autograph by Satchmo himself". He sighed, closed his eyes and with nothing left to lose he put the instrument to his lips and let himself go. A terrible sound ensued, as bent as the battered horn. He felt no change but when he opened his eyes, he found himself in a coffin-like box, stuffed with large ribbons of crinkly card paper that poked forcefully and uncomfortably into his body.

He heard a banshee shriek and then some muffled voices, and soon his box was torn open by two ravenous giant children. To his horror, he found he could not move. The children hoisted him aloft, tossed him about and shouted with glee.

He was soon discarded for the next package of wonders, and the cycle of chatter and gleeful shouts of anticipation was repeated. He could see Naboo and Bollo being propped up and posed in comical ways. They shared his paralysis.

A large shiny red ball bobbed down near them from the massive pine tree that hovered over them. In it they could see their reflections; a vision of their miniaturized bodies could be seen there, distorted the same way as a funhouse mirror. Howard was now dressed as a World War One soldier, complete with a gun and helmet. Bollo was stuck in a red circus-style vest with gold brocade, two sizes too small for his impressive frame and a little straw hat with a bouncing daisy strutting from its band.

Naboo looked the same as he always had, save for the growing paralysis, glossy plastic skin and hair they shared. Vince was nowhere to be seen, and Howard once again engaged in despair.

They each felt dazed and strove to gain their bearings and full awareness.

Eventually the children, Chloe and Walter grew tired of all their lavish gifts and mother called them for a hardy Christmas breakfast.

As soon as everyone left visual range, Howard, Naboo and Bollo were able to move. They trudged through the discarded wrapping and bows to reach one another.

"Naboo! Bollo!" Howard called to them.

Bollo let out a familiar grunt.

"Howard!" Naboo called back. "Where have you been? We didn't see you in the last corridor."

"Long story. No time!" Howard said melodramatically. "Where's Vince?"

"Don't know. It's just been us I've seen."

"Then it's high time that Howard Moon took charge!" Howard said in what he imagined to be a heroic way. "Naboo, Bollo, you have nothing to fear now that I'm here, just in the nick of time!"

"We have another problem, Howard," Naboo broke in.

"It's at a time like this when a great man should mark the occasion with a few words, simple brushstrokes of poetry or a statement to be written in the annals of history…"

"Howard!" Naboo broke in.

"What is it, Naboo?" Howard asked as if to a child. "What is it that Howard TJ Moon can't solve?"

"We're slowly being turned into toys," Naboo said. "It's the Toy Maker's spell. Can't you feel it?"

Howard became aware of his limbs and the strange numbness that had been creeping over him. He felt the plasticized skin on his forearm and could feel his soldier's uniform becoming one with his legs.

"Noooo!!!!" Howard wailed. "This can't be happening!"

Howard had been so busy bragging that he had to stop to realize what was happening to him and the others.

Bollo shook his head in disgust at Howard's screaming.

"Where's my trumpet?" Howard said, casting about for his prized possession. "I've got to find my trumpet!"

"Forget about your stupid trumpet," Naboo said. "We've got to get out of here. If we don't get out of here within the next day, we'll be plastic toys forever and we'll have to do the Toy Maker's will."

"The Toy Maker's will? What sort of things would he have us do?"

"I dunno. Make sandwiches," Naboo told him. "Could be anything he fancies, even killing people!"

Howard chilled at the thought.

The second the children charged back into the room, their appetites sated with pancakes and bacon, the trio went limp.

Chloe and Walter were ready to play with their toy treasures. Walter gathered his new possessions, including a hapless Howard, into a giant wicker basket. Chloe did the same with her gifts, which included Naboo and Bollo.

Howard realized he was being separated yet again from his friends and had no power to stop it. Soon he was whisked away to Walter's room. Walter displayed Howard with a group of other soldier dolls, including some formidable looking marines, naval personnel and fantasy figures.

Howard could feel his limbs becoming more plasticized and continue to lose sensation and flexibility. He seemed to have no choice but accept this cruel fate, the dreaded "Fate Worse than Death" that he had feared for Vince.

Finally it grew dark save for a few streaks of light from the full moon that slipped through the slatted shades. As soon as Walter fell asleep, Howard's found he could move again, though he lacked flexibility. He touched his face with stiffened hands. It had become a semi-rigid mask.

The formidable figure next to him snapped to attention and let out a forceful "hoo-rah!" and proceeded to go into a practiced routine.

"Alright you maggots, fall in!" a Marine Sergeant ordered. "Are you deaf, Private? Because if you are, you had better start hearing this loud and clear! Get your worthless carcass over here, and right naaaahoow!"

"Oh, I'm…I'm," Howard stuttered. "I'm Howard Moon, and I'm afraid there's been a mix-up. You see, I don't really belong here…"

The drill Sergeant signaled for the Samaurai Warrior and the Orc to flank Howard and drag him to the formation.

"You're new here, Susan, so I'll say this just once! When I say 'jump' you ask 'how high and when do I come down' followed by 'Sir'! Is that clear scumball?"

"Don't touch me!" Howard struggled only to be met with a punch to his stomach. The punch, despite its strength, forced him to double over but did not affect him as much as it should have. He reckoned he was at least half doll by now, his human half dwindling rapidly.

"What is your major maladjustment, Nancy boy?"

"Look, my name is Howard Moon, and I don't belong here!" Howard stated defiantly. "In the last few days, I've been hoodwinked by a gypsy, yeah. I've endangered, perhaps killed my best mate. I've been catapulted through some kind of magic Snow Globe by my Shaman landlord and I'm being turned into a toy by some daft Toy Maker Demon who is not just mentally deranged but who has an unnatural obsession with academic achievement. Now I'm being bandied about like a piece of rubbish and if you're planning on killing me, don't mess about. You would be doing me a great service sir, because I have had it up to here with all of it. I'm not given to fits of emotionalism, but today Howard TJ Moon is officially cheesed off, sir!"

Howard expected the next blows of abuse. Instead, he received compassion. He spilled the whole story, sparing no detail. He could not help himself. Oddly the Sergeant and the troop all listened attentively.

When Howard was finished, he began to sob uncontrollably, still thinking of Vince's fate. They had their differences in the past, but the truth was despite their disagreements, polarities or even betrayals, they were still irrevocably linked. Their bond was forged together with deep underlying and uncontrollable love. Neither one had an inkling of understanding or insight into their own relationship, but it governed everything they did and everything they felt.

"Gentlemen, it seems we have a situation here and a new special mission!" the Sergeant said, his tone softened. "Are you with me?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the group shouted forcefully in perfect unison.

One of the Army dolls patted Howard on the back. "That Toy Maker got me too, Howard. It's too late for me, but maybe we can help you and your friends."

Like a well-oiled machine, the troops fell into their practiced attack position. With Howard in tow, they began their march to Chloe's room. It would soon be dawn, and the people in the house would wake up. If they were caught within anyone's sight, they would be immobile once again and surely time would run out. They would all be trapped forever in Toy Land.

The plan was to send a ninja scout ahead for reconnaissance. If the way was clear, they would proceed to retrieve Naboo and Bollo, and continue their search if necessary.

The scout returned a favorable message which was delivered back to them through a system of lookout points and the motley gang of unlikely comrades charged into Chloe's room without mishap.

Howard feared the worst, but what he found there was not at all what he expected. Then again perhaps it was so typical he should have seen it coming.

tbc…


	10. Oh, What a Lovely Tea Party!

Hieronymus Boosh

by AnitaLife

Part 10

**Hello Dolly!  
**

In the room, at a lavishly set table, atop a pink doily, Vince sat, holding court among the rag dolls, plastic fashion figures and porcelain princesses.

Vince and the girls were having a grand tea party. Vince was at ease in the middle of the beautiful dolls, which were as varied in their types as Walter's masculine counterparts. Naboo and Bollo were sitting with the group but in contrast to Vince's cheery demeanor, they looked sullen, miserable and dejected.

Bollo was draped in a pink flowery doll's dress which had been hastily pulled over his already absurd red vest. His mouth was smudged with ultra red lipstick and his eyelids sported a metallic blue shadow.

Naboo was wearing a frilly fuchsia calico apron on top of his normal Shaman's garb. His cheeks were bright red with rouge which was made using the lipstick that had been sloshed onto Bollo.

It looked as if Chloe had set up the tea party before she went to bed and now the pair was stuck in ridiculous but un-removable garments.

"Hey, Howard!" Vince called as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Come and join us!"

Howard breathed a sigh of relief. "Vince! What are you doing? We've got to get out of here!"

Vince turned to the girls, who were giggling at Vince's attentions. "Excuse me ladies, that's me mate Howard. He's such a wet blanket. I've got go sort him out."

"Hurry back, Vincent sweetie!" said Lavender, the Bopsey-Brand rag doll, with her pouting red lips. Her soft-sculpture white face saddened when he got up and her impressive cloud of curly red yarn hair seemed to droop.

"Vince, we've got to get out of here," Howard repeated to Vince urgently. "Hasn't Naboo told you what's happening to us?"

"Yeah, I know, but Howard, Chloe is such a great kid and she really loves me."

"But, Vince you're wearing a ludicrous outfit, clearly not in fashion," Howard appealed, using the obvious. "Three pompoms down the front? Clashing colors? The jester hat alone…"

"I've thought about that quite a bit Howard, and I think I can make it work, maybe even start a trend. How cool is that!"

"What about your nightlife, hey?" Howard attempted. "Pulling shapes at the club? The Camden birds?"

"Won't miss it," Vince said, rolling his eyes at Howard's attempts.

"So that's it then, is it?" Howard's exasperation was showing. "We've risked everything to get here, to save you and now you want to stay in this place and become a child's plaything."

"Look, Howard it has its benefits. I don't have to worry about anything. All the tea and biscuits I could ever want, and the ladies, well…surely you can see." Vince smiled and waved at the giggling bevy of dolls who were all clearly enamored of Vince. "Let's just say, I might be getting very lucky, quite often."

"Vince, you're not right! What about…" Howard wanted to say 'us', but could not.

"What about your bands? You want to be a rock star, eh? What about Blueberry…what was it?"

"What, Blueberry Cage? Ahhh," Vince groaned dismissively. "Pretentious losers."

"Yeah. Blueberry Cage. Don't you want to be their front man anymore?"

"No, I'm done with that, Howard. I want to stay here."

"Done with Blueberry Cage, the concept band?" Howard asked. "The group that was so beyond the veil they only conceptualized music?"

Howard felt helpless. His appeals were having no effect and time was running out.

tbc…


	11. Attack of the Pod People

Hieronymus Boosh

by AnitaLife

Part 11

Homage to Julian Barratt's & Tim Hope's "The Pod"

**Attack of the Pod People**

"Blueberry Cage" was one of Vince's latest former obsessions. They were a rogue band so esoteric and avant-garde that they never actually made any sounds. Sound, they felt was beneath the mo-derne, cutting edge musician. Since Vince could neither sing nor play an instrument, he was ideal as their front man. His job was to pose for obtuse art shots, lounge around in various states of undress and stare blankly at the press until even the most flamboyantly pretentious art magazines, such as sugaRAPE, walked out on him.

Gigs consisted of the five members going to clubs, dressed according to Vince's fashion directions. They always looked fabulous. They would never stand together, and they never played anything nor stood on the stage. They believed that if they conceptualized music, the people would begin to "hear" their concepts and fall in line. So far, they had no success. In fact no one in the clubs even knew they were actually at a "Blueberry Cage" performance. It was all a part of the carefully laid sneak attack plan, their entre into the subconscious minds of the audience. It was not going very well.

Collectively, "Blueberry Cage" was disappointed with their album sales—and the consistent returns of all units moved— but they knew as artists that people were not able to grasp the enormity of the work, which consisted of a CD that contained 55.04 minutes of silence in cuts which varied in length between 4.27 and 16.5 minutes.

They were incensed by their inability to get any airplay whatsoever, and raged against the system of corporate dictated playlists. When even the outré pirate station that broadcast from a tugboat off the shores of Bristoltwistenanni refused to play them, they raged against the snobbery of the elitist artier-than-thou set.

When their Wall of Lack of Sound was rejected, they merely pish-toshed the primitive public hive mentality which insisted on the out-dated paradigm that music, in order to be valid, must actually sound like something—anything. Their work, they assured themselves, was well beyond the ken of the average uninitiated plebian moron that formed the foundation of the mewling masses. "Blueberry Cage" believed that their eponymous CD would someday be hailed as the masterpiece that it was and that they would take their place alongside other forward thinking giants of art, music and culture. But not anywhere near John Cage; he was an idiot.

"So, you won't come back for Blueberry Cage, then. Well what about that other one, what was it…?"

"Morte de Bergamote," Vince finished. "Don't want them anymore either."

**I Love Rocks N Roll**

"Morte de Bergamote" was an emerging talent on the bleeding edge of the horizon (that is, in their own minds). They were impressed with Vince's work with "Blueberry Cage", largely because he continually bombarded them with shots of himself lounging about in various states of undress, either looking like a helpless rabbit, a sick walrus or like an angry super model. In any case, the images were unsettling enough to grab the attention of "ModeBe's" leader, and Vince had joined them and performed at a few gigs right before this whole ugly Toy Maker incident began.

"Morte de Bergamote" actually did believe in creating sounds. Their _raisen d'etre_ was in Rocks (sic) Music. Their sound was not the ubiquitous raging guitars, wailing singers, thrumping bass and driving drums of traditional rock music, but rather music which issues forth from iron-filled stones strewn about in fields of boulders. Evidently what appears to be a large garden variety stone will "ring" when percussion is applied using a ball peen hammer or other heavy blunt object. The greater the content of iron in the rock, the better the tone emitted. This is true.

Again, Vince did not actually have to do anything remotely musical, but he did have to wear a costume dipped in hardening cement and pull shapes representing the various boulders being played and occasionally he would throw his back and shoulders out of place due to the odd poses and weight of the costume.

Their whole problem was in getting roadies or anyone at all to transport their "instruments" to their gigs since their selected travel boulders were many and weighed in at quite a few stone.

The group had another issue. They were facing charges of defiling several public parks as they removed sections of the natural attractions. Their defense was that the earth belonged to everyone and that they were merely borrowing parts of her for the benefit of mankind. Somehow the Judge was not impressed and they were forced to release their "instruments" back into the wild or face prison for their art, a sacrifice none of them cared to make.

In lieu of actual rocks, the keyboardists used samples recorded in the fields to re-create the sound. Tempers flared and the group polarized over the issue of purity vs. feasibility of the whole Rocks Music concept. Three members insisted that without the actual boulders at the gigs, the sound was compromised beyond redemption. Vince joined the keyboard sampling side as he was suffering from his own orthopedic ills. The remaining two band members, one of whom was sporting a severely herniated disk and the other one a broken foot, a pulled ligament and a crushed hand, were adamant about the sampled sounds model. The resulting schism smashed the group apart, but the samplers were going to reform as "Dirty Lil' Ringing Roxy and the Hyphenated Rowsdowers" as soon as their injuries were healed.

"Fine, then come back to be in a band with me," Howard pleaded, his desperation apparent.

"Look, Howard, I'm done will all of that," Vince told him plainly. "I'm Vince Noir, beautiful Harlequin doll…forever."

"What is wrong with you? Has your brain turned to plastic already?" Howard asked, exasperated.

Howard had nothing left to lose so he pleaded, "What about you and me, the team? Exordium and Terminus? Thing One and Thing Two? Bert and Ernie?"

Vince looked a bit upset for a split second but his sunshine face returned. "We could still be a team, Howard. Why not stay here? Be one of us."

Naboo and Bollo walked over to Vince and Howard.

"Join you? And, then what?" Howard asked.

"Well, we could have tea parties, and," Vince looked over at the table of girls and waved. They all giggled. "I know a lot of cute dolls. I could fix you up, Howard. Find you the one with the perfect figure. You could play house."

"Really?" Howard said, his interest peaked.

"Oh, don't you start, Howard," Naboo broke in. "Look, Vince, we have to leave now, and besides…"

"What?" Howard asked.

"If you stay, you won't even be anatomically correct, if you catch my drift," Naboo said with a wry look on his face. Bollo chuckled.

"Same's true for you, Bollo," Naboo scolded, shutting up the ape. "What d'ya say, Vince?"

"I don't care about any of that," Vince said. "You can join me if you want to or leave. I don't care. I'm staying!" Vince turned and went to the girls and resumed the party, trying to pretend that Howard, Naboo and Bollo were not standing right there.

Howard felt like a trapped rat. Why would Vince not listen to reason? He was about to be enlightened.

tbc…

Please R&R. Let me know if you think The Pod is as funny as I do!


	12. It Takes Two, Baby

Hieronymus Boosh

by AnitaLife

Part 12

**It Takes Two, to Make a Dream Come True**

There was a reason behind Vince's puzzling truculence. Chloe's folks had a tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. Vince had been freed from his box the night before Howard and company since Chloe happened to choose his box. He could still see the expression on her face when she first saw him and it embodied pure, instant, unconditional love. She pulled him out of his pretty package with care, then held him to her heart with delight and danced around the room with unadulterated adoration.

"Mum, he's so beautiful and I love him," Chloe squealed. "He's the most beautiful doll I've ever seen!"

At that moment Vince felt more loved than he had ever been in his life. He was accepted and treasured, which was far from the uneasy cold shoulder he had been receiving from Howard. There was no longer any need to strive for fame and fortune. He had everything he needed right there in that little girl. When he met the other dolls, he was immediately accepted and loved by them. There was no more rejection of any kind. It was heady stuff.

"What's going on?" Naboo asked.

"He won't come back, Naboo," Howard stated. "I don't know what to do."

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Naboo told him.

Naboo pulled out his Opal, and looked into it, suddenly enlightened as to Vince's motivations.

"Howard, take my hand," Naboo ordered.

"What?" Howard said, puzzled and slow.

Naboo grabbed Howard's hand, and Howard then understood all thanks to the Opal. He could see into Vince's mind, such as it was, but the information spurred him on.

With renewed vigor, Howard went to Vince, attempting to bring him back.

"What did you see when you looked into the Snow Globe?"

Howard's question caught Vince up short. Naboo and Bollo exchanged puzzled glances.

"I…I don't remember," Vince lied.

"I know what you saw Vince," Howard said to him. "I know what you saw because it's the same thing I saw, your deepest longing."

A tiny ray of sun light shown through the slats on the window. The sun had risen, and their time was diminishing quickly.

"Howard, Vince, we have got to go. Now!" Naboo insisted.

The rag-tag action figure army was ready to escort the group to wherever they needed to go.

"Vince! What did you see?" Howard tried again.

"Now, Howard!" Naboo insisted.

Chloe was stirring in her sleep, about to wake up.

Howard sighed, defeated in the face of Vince's decision.

"Dolls get old, Vince. They get discarded, used up, forgotten and put into jumble sales!" Howard told him desperately.

Vince ignored Howard and continued the tea party. A glamorous blonde fashion doll had attached herself to his arm, and there appeared to be some animosity flaring up between her and the much older patchy red-head. Vince assured them that they could all work it out.

"The girl Chloe and the dolls, they only want you because you're beautiful!" Howard blurted to Vince, who didn't appear to hear him.

With no response from Vince, Howard turned and began to go with the group.

"I only want you because you're you," Howard said quietly, dejectedly to no one in particular.

Howard began walking off with the group. He turned and looked at Vince who was laughing and enjoying himself, apparently oblivious to Howard's angst. Howard tried to go forward, but stopped, frozen in his tracks. He had tried to leave Vince there, but found could not.

"Now what?" Naboo asked, as he realized Howard was dragging his feet.

"Go on without me, Naboo," Howard said. "I'm staying with him."

"Oh no! Howard, you'll be a toy in hours! You and Vince!" Naboo warned.

When Naboo showed him the Opal, Howard found out what Vince had seen when he looked into the Snow Globe. It was easy since it was exactly what Howard saw in the Globe.

When Howard first looked into the intoxicating magic Snow Globe, he saw a promise of fame, approval and regard. He thought that was his deepest desire. But, as he continued to view it each day, something changed. Slowly images of Vince crept into the picture. Every time he stared into it, he saw the two of them, crimping, playing, talking, just being with one another. He saw that his longing was for his best mate, not for fortune, fame or praise.

In the instant before he was taken into the Globe, Vince was inundated by the same images of their friendship. The difference was that he was afraid it was lost forever all over a stupid prank.

Through the Snow Globe, Howard realized that he and Vince were soul mates. Now through the Opal, Howard knew that Vince knew it too. He could not believe that the thought had never crossed his mind before, but they were just so natural together they took it all for granted. Besides, they were both fairly dense and needed the obvious spelled out for them with pictures drawn in crayons.

It no longer mattered to Howard where he was as long as he was with Vince. He would spend a year, maybe two with Vince until they were no longer wanted by the girl. He would rather be with Vince for a short time under any circumstances than a lifetime away. He would take his chances with the evil Toy Maker.

Naboo sighed. "Bollo and I have to get out of here. If you stay, there's nothing I can do for you," Naboo informed Howard. "But, take this Opal for good luck."

"I get it. It's imbued with magic powers," Howard said knowingly. "Will it save us at the last minute?"

"I doubt it."

"Huh?"

"It's a fake," Naboo lisped. "Got it at a jumble sale."

"What?" Howard was puzzled. The stone did seem to have some kind of magic in it and he thought he heard Naboo call it a magic stone.

"Oh, here's an apron Howard. Good luck." Naboo removed his frilly apron and handed it to Howard. He gathered Bollo and with the troop they all took off, presumably to return to their world.

Howard shook his head and went to sit with Vince and the ladies. He held the useless Opal in his hand stared at it for a minute before slipping it into his uniform.

"Hey Howard," Vince greeted and smiled a little bit more, though his face was fast becoming a rigid mask of a gigantic smile. He resembled Mr. Punch more and more.

"Hey Vince," Howard said, as he tied on the apron. Why not? He already felt like a fool. Might as well go whole hog.

"Howard, what did you just say back there? I mean, after you said they only want me because I'm…"

"Nothing, Vince. Nothing at all."

"I thought you said that you wanted me because…"

"You're hearing's gone wrong too," Howard growled.

Vince smiled, knowingly. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his hearing.

Sunlight now flooded the room, showing the colorful plastic world they now inhabited. Chloe woke up and immediately went to her lovely new toys. The group was immobilized and Howard knew they would be here forever.

"Good morning, my precious little Harlequin!" she said, as she scooped Vince into her arms. "Oh my!" she said, as she looked at Howard. "How did _you_ get in here?"

She grabbed Howard and ran into her brother's room and deposited him among the motley group of warriors. Chloe did not want the funny looking soldier doll.

Howard thought of the old saying, "The more things changed, the more they remained the same." Howard now knew that he would not be with Vince after all, at least not very often.

Walter was awake, so Howard was unable to move, but Howard still felt a deep sense of depression.

With a puff of blackened smoke the Toy Maker appeared to Howard but was invisible to Walter, who was slowly getting ready for breakfast.

"Excellent! You're coming along nicely!" he gloated as he poked Howard's arms and stomach as if testing a fruit for ripeness. "I had my misgivings about you Howard, but I do believe you and the Harlequin are my finest work to date! I shall have to enter you for consideration at the next Golem Consortium. I do so adore homunculi, don't you? Yes! To you, that means inanimate figures that have a spirit trapped inside!"

At that moment, Walter bolted from the room, freeing Howard to move. Howard used that ability to lunge toward the Demon, but found his new friends held him back.

"Don't do it, Howard!" the Marine told him. "He can really hurt you!"

Howard wanted to grab the smug Demon by the throat and wring it until he choked him to death, but his new friends would not permit it.

"You would not believe what Agony Administration Level 2, in which I earned the only perfect score of my class, would permit me to do to you."

"Let us go, or I'll…" Howard said with frustration.

"You'll what? Mmm?" The Toymaker sighed with boredom. "Now, let's get down to cases. I'm here to give you your first instructions!"

"Instructions? You think I'm going to do anything at all that you want me to do?"

"Yes. I do."

"Never!"

"It's simple. So simple even you and Vince can understand. You must kill the boy. Walter is it? You don't mind, do you?" he purred.

Howard was horrified. He could no more harm a child than he could set fire to the Nabootique or hurt Vince.

"I'll have the little Harlequin kill the girl child," the Toy Maker said flatly, as he examined his nails nonchalantly. The Toy Maker waved his hands at Howard.

"No!" Howard wanted to scream, but found he could not. He was in thrall to the Toy Maker's will.

"When you're both done, which should be by midnight, I have a long list of annoying children that must be eliminated."

Things were looking down.

tbc…

Thanks for the R&R and encouragement! You keep me going.


	13. A Rousing Speech

Heironymus Boosh

Part 13

The Toy Maker vanished as fast as he had arrived, leaving Howard to contemplate his fate. So this was how it goes. He and Vince would kill children at the behest of a crazed Demon. It made no sense.

"I've got to get to Vince," he told the soldiers. "This time I won't take 'no' from him for an answer. We've both got to get out of here!"

"It isn't safe to travel during the day, Private," the Army man told him. "If we're seen by anyone, we'll freeze."

"There's got to be something we can do!"

"It's no use, Howard," the Marine informed him. "Even if you could escape, the Toy Maker will bring you back."

Howard thought about that. He was frankly terrified, but what was the alternative? He did not want to do it, but the idea of what was going to happen spurred him on.

He pulled himself up and puffed out his chest. He was Howard TJ Moon, infantryman or something, fighting for the good of all concerned.

He took a deep breath and then began.

"Yes, my friends, the way will be difficult, but we must die, try or die trying, or try and not to die and don't die…"

"We get the idea," growled the Orc.

"It's given to each of us to be a hero. We can claim our birth right or we can forever be craven cowards, ah…cowering in the back corner like frightened rabbits, afraid of our fate, afraid of what lies ahead! What will it be, gentlemen?" Howard pulled himself up with pride once again at the sound of his own voice. He could almost hear the crescendo of movie music playing behind his speech.

"Hey, Howard! Did you just give a rousing speech?" a familiar voice called from the doorway. "Genius! I love it when he does that!" Vince laughed as he spoke to the group breathlessly, his jester bells jingling. Furtively Vince looked back, hoping he was not followed, but he was.

"Vince!" Howard and Vince ran to each other and collided in the middle, nearly knocking each other over.

Several dolls in his entourage were hunting down Vince with murderous intent. The old red-haired rag doll was ripped in a few new places and stuffing was sticking out from various spots on her body as if she were a disheveled chicken. The glamorous blonde was holding her own entire right arm in her left hand and was wielding as if it was a weapon. Several other dolls joined the fray. The Porcelain Princess' blue velvet dress had been ripped and her perfectly white cheeks were smudged with crayons. All the dolls were chasing Vince and fighting at the same time.

"How did you get here?" Howard asked.

"The whole family went out," Vince huffed. "Howard, you've got to help me! They're gonna kill me! They're not big on sharing here!"

"Are you ready to leave now?" Howard asked urgently.

"Howard," Vince managed with a wry grin.

"What?"

"You're speaking to me," Vince smiled.

"Stop that!" Howard insisted. "Now, let us sally forth," Howard announced, as if they were about to go fox hunting.

The entire group, which now resembled an insane hastily tossed-together costume party, took off toward the door. The girls still followed for Vince, not sure what to do now that the brigade was protecting him. The troops were at the ready to defend the whole collection.

No sooner did they make their way through the door when they spied an enormous mound of orange tabby, who was very busy basking in the sunlit hallway in a satisfied mid-afternoon stupor. She immediately sat bolt upright at the approaching crowd. At first she was confused, but then crouched down waiting to pounce on the hapless gang. Instantly she sprung and caught an Orc in her shark-like teeth. When the hapless Orc passed out, she set her sights on the other toys.

They hardly had time to be afraid when they all ran back to Walter's room. Together they shut the door against the feline fury.

"Now what?" Howard almost shouted with frustration. "Vince! Where are you going? Come back here. You'll be killed."

Against his instincts, Howard ran after Vince who had bolted out into the hallway, into the clutches of the large predator. Howard was horrified that he might see Vince mangled by the felonious feline killer.

tbc…


	14. Nobody Expects the Fashion Police

Hieronymus Boosh

Part 14

Howard heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Vince talking to the confused creature, stroking her colossal forehead. She had released the Orc figure who had run back to be with the group. The dolls had forgotten their quest for Vince's duplicitous hide, and stood gaping with everyone else.

The cat began to purr as Vince simply charmed the hairballs out of her.

Vince looked back at Howard. "Told you I was a gifted child, Howard," Vince grinned. "This is Tabouli. Tabouli, meet Howard. He's coming with me."

In a sweep, Vince hopped up on Tabouli's massive back.

"What you doin'?" Howard pleaded.

"Getting us out of here, Howard." Vince offered his hand from his furry vantage point. "Or do you want to hurt these children?"

With that Howard found himself atop the beast, clutching Vince for stability.

"Relax, Howard. You won't fall off."

"Wait! Vince, take me with you!" came a chorus of female pleas. "I love you, Vince!" some said. "You're meant to be with me," others insisted.

"Sorry ladies. Thanks for the lovely tea party!"

"Unbelievable!" Howard managed to groan. "How do you do that?" He was always in awe of Vince's magnetism.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Vince deadpanned, just happy to get away in one piece.

"Where are we going anyway?"

Howard looked around for a possible egress. The windows were all locked shut. They would have to break a gigantic piece of glass, which could slice them all into shreds. The thought of knife-edged sheets of glass sawing them in pieces made Howard shiver.

"Haven't any of you ever tried to escape before?" Howard yelled toward the group.

"Well, sure, partner," said the American Old West Sheriff doll. "Plenty of times, but we always get brung back ta here."

"There are vents in the floor, but they go right into the furnace," the ragdoll redhead told them. "I'd go up in flames and you would probably melt into a puddle."

Howard was also aware of one thing; he was almost no longer a human. His entire body was nearly made of plastic. He thought the same must be true for Vince.

Vince's face had been frozen into a gigantic Mr. Punch grimace, as Howard's had been frozen into an eternal scowl. Together they looked like Comedy and Tragedy masks over the arch at the proscenium of a theatre.

"Howard," Vince began. "I don't want to melt into a puddle."

"C'mon, Little Man," Howard chided his partner. "We've been in worse scrapes before, heh?"

"Have we?"

"Well, no not really, but…" Something caught Howard's eye. Howard had thought he had lost his prized trumpet, but amongst the kit for one of the soldiers, there it poked out, glinting in one of the sunrays that dashed through the slatted window shade. He bolted off the animal and leapt toward the thing like a man grasping at a life raft.

"Oh Howard, now is not the time for Jazz!" Vince objected. "In fact, there is never a time for Jazz, ever!"

"Watch and learn, Vince!"

Vince rolled his eyes then covered his ears as Howard blew the trumpet.

In a flash, the Spirit of Music appeared before the group and started dancing around.

"Mr. B!" Howard attempted. "Mr. B! We need your help!"

"I'm the Spirit of Music," he/she announced shrilly. "In you! And you! In all of you!"

"Yeah yeah," Howard agreed impatiently. "You're the Spirit of Music. We haven't got time for this."

"Is this a joke?" Vince asked. "Who's this mental midget?"

Mr. B confused Vince's sycophantic followers, who were unsure of the prancing newcomer's gender or intentions. A new ripple of jealousy jolted through the girls even though they knew Vince was trying to get away.

"Knew your father, did I," Mr. B said, as he/she danced near Vince.

"Yeah, that's nice," Vince snarked. "Can you shut up now? We're trying to think."

"Useless," Howard said as he once again sunk down. "It looks like this is it, Vince," Howard announced. "We've come to the end."

Suddenly the sound of whistles pierced the air, causing all to wince against the high pitched noise.

"All right people. Freeze!" commanded one of the smartly dressed people, as he snap-clapped his hands in the air next to his head. "There is a Fashion Crime in Progress."

"Wince? Whoo-ince Noo-waur? _Est-ce vous , cher? Mais_, it cahn'not be!" cried a very tall wafer thin woman in an impossibly ridiculous outfit from a fashion runway show.

"Sha-zar! Chico! Rico! Sam!" Vince cried in relief.

"_Non!_ I cannot accept that you have violated the law so severely," Sha-zar cried, looking at her clip board. "Wince Noo-waur, I must inform you, though it gives me great pains that you are in violation of 17 laws, edicts and mandates."

"No wait!" Vince began to panic. He had only highest honors from the Fashion Police. It would be unbearable to garner a violation.

"I must also inform you," Sha-zar paused for a dramatic sniffle, "that your Platinum status is now suspended indefinitely and may be revoked at your trial…"

tbc…


	15. Smashing!

Hieronymus Boosh

Part 15

"It's not my fault," Vince defended. "I was forced to dress this way by the evil Toy Maker."

"Oh, I am so relieved," she sighed melodramatically. "Ve haf been on his trail for a long time. You could help us put a stop to his fashion lawbreaking ways."

"Genius!"

She took Vince aside, though Howard could still hear her pronouncement. "Your ami, 'oward, 'e is always a constant walking violation of what we hold dear. _Mais vous, cher. Jamais. _Never!"

"Howard, these are the Fashion Police," Vince informed Howard in his chirping tones.

"Yeah, I got that. I'm a walking violation."

"Si, si," chimed Rico. "Howard TJ Moon. A known fashion nightmare!" He checked his small computer and narrowed his eyes at the entry about Howard.

"Can they get us out of here?" Howard pleaded.

"Chico reporting to HQ. The new mode of uber-fashionable transport, gigantic cats," he paused, hearing the enquiry on the other end. "I'll ask him. Vince, does the feline have to be an orange tabby or are you open to other color ways."

"I don't believe this!" Howard complained.

"You can never go wrong with basic black…" Vince began.

Before Vince could finish his sentence, Chico went back to reporting the new fashion trend of riding giant black cats.

"Of course we can get you out of here! We are the all powerful Fashion Police!" Sam informed them.

"They can get us out of here if," Vince began and started to think it through.

"What?"

"They can get us out of here only if it's fashionable and trendy," Vince said quietly to Howard.

"Well, there is that," Sam agreed. "Has anyone of interest ever left this place?"

Vince paused for a few moments then realized _he _was the trendsetter.

"Me!" he told them. "I'm leaving this place, with my friend, riding a beast named Tabouli, the new trendy transport."

"Wary well. It is now trendy to leave the clutches of the evil Toy Maker, but only on a giant black or orange tabby cat."

"Alert! Alert! Powder blue-jacketed Peter Pan androgynies are all the rage," Chico broadcast to Fashion HQ.

"Come on!" Howard insisted and got up on Tabouli behind Vince.

"Beautiful! Look at the lines!" squealed Sha-zar. "Magnifique!"

Two more cats joined the group. They seemed to materialize out of nothing. Long time companions Chico and Rico cozy-ed up on top of the basic black, while Sha-zar and Sam straddled another orange Tabby.

Vince and Howard finally waved goodbye to the dumfounded group of misfit toys. Several of the dolls were weeping over the loss of Vince.

The All Powerful Fashion Police whisked them all back to the Toy Maker's workshop.

The Toy Maker looked up from his latest projects, aghast that his latest prizes were not where he wanted them.

"Toy Maker?"

"Yes?"

"Is that '_Evil_ Toy Maker'?"

"Look, what is this? These two have work to do tonight."

"Mr. Maker, the jig is up," Howard told him. "Turn yourself in and it will go easier on you."

"Shut it Howard," Vince hushed. "Don't want you calling attention to yourself with this lot. You've received Special Fashion Dispensation at my request. Don't push it."

"What you on about? There's absolutely nothing wrong with the way I dress. Simple. Practical. Streamlined."

That comment garnered Howard some icy stares, but the Fashion Police were occupied and focused on taking the Toy Maker to justice.

He struggled against his captors, spouting on about his degrees and laurels.

"Oh, and that's another thing," Chico said. "We've checked your credentials. You have exaggerated everything about your alleged achievements."

"NO!" the Evil Toy Maker objected. "I'm a Tenth Level Demon of…"

"And the ones that aren't exaggerated are completely falsified." Rico said. "You sir, are a fraud in every way!"

"You are mistaken. I'm..."

"But worst of all, and the most unconscionable thing there is, you have forced a very respected Fashion paragon into an outfit far beneath his station. That is unforgivable and you will be going to Fashion Prison for a very long time until you are completely reformed. Chico, if you will, please read him his Fashion Rights."

"You have the right to remain unfashionable, however it can and will be used against you in the Court of Fashion. You have the right to a Fashion Consultant. If you waive that right and elect to remain your own Fashion Consultant, you risk spending eternity in Fashion Hell and will have to wear cutting edge _haut _couture for the rest of eternity or face further repercussions of your Fashion Flaunting lifestyle."

Chico and Rico clapped the Toy Maker in some snappy looking restraints and carted him off, kicking and screaming in protest as he went.

Howard became aware that he was back in his normal clothes. His flesh was whole again. The same was true for Vince who was smiling just as much as when his face was plastic.

"_Au revoir_, Vincent! _Vous êtes un trésor. _You are a treasure," Sha-zar called. "See if you can help your friend, though I expect he's pretty hopeless."

Vince waved and the remaining Fashion Police disappeared, leaving the duo standing in the middle of the vast shop. They walked around then found the exit and left the building.

Outside was as strange as the interior. A ripple of white flakes rolled lazily around in the air. The grass was impossibly green and the sky impossibly blue, though they could see vague but familiar images through the dome that encased them.

"Now what?"

"I dunno," Vince said.

"We can't just stay here," Howard began to panic.

Vince found a mirror-like pool and began to examine his appearance. Howard sighed, but did not try to stop him. How long had it been since Vince was able to have a proper preen? It was a small sign of normalcy in an abnormal situation.

Howard sat down on a _papier-mâché_ rock and stared at a rather large plastic daisy. He put his hands into his pockets and found a cool, smooth shape and a light dawned on him.

He had a plan though the outcome was uncertain. It was a long shot at best. He studied the glass dome and again thought of sheets of glass shearing them into pieces or worse. They could be crushed by falling pieces just as easily. But, there was no way they could just stay here.

"Vince," Howard said.

No response. Vince was immersed in himself again, fussing that his hair was a complete wreck having flattened sections from the jester hat.

"Vince," Howard said, more insistent. "I really need you to come here."

Howard was not sure what would happen if he threw the Opal. It could get them out of here but it was equally as conceivable that absolutely nothing would come of it at all. Or they could die horribly. No matter what, he wanted to have Vince nearby.

"Vince, whatever happens I just want you to know," Howard began.

Vince cringed inside. Not another love confession. He jumped in to avert another silly melodramatic Howard moment and perhaps to patch up a few loose ends.

"That you knew I was faking it all along with the love potion?" Vince ventured with a gigantic smile.

"Ah. Well…" Howard attempted and sighed briefly. "Of course I knew." Howard smiled knowingly, forgetting about the confession he was about to make.

"Are you ready to get out of here?" Howard asked.

"No! We can't leave here yet," Vince said in a panicked tone.

"What?" Howard was concerned.

"My hair's a wreck!"

"You berk," Howard shot.

As soon as he had Vince's often flickering attention, he took out the Non-Magic (or was it Magic) Opal and hurled it at the dome with as much force as he could.

The artificial world shattered, crashing down around them. The pair grasped each other, like frightened sea otters.

"Hang on, Little Man!" Howard shouted. "One way or the other, we're out of here."

With a whoosh, the pair found themselves on the floor of the Nabootique like fish out of water, gasping for air.

"It's about time," Naboo said, as if they had simply walked into the store as always. "Got to open up the Nabootique and Howard's still got an errand to run for me."

"Naboo! Bollo!" Vince leapt up and hugged his friends with glee. Bollo cuddled back.

"I'm fine, everyone," Howard said sarcastically. "Thanks for your concern." Howard stood up and dusted off the evaporating bits of magic glass from the shattered Snow Globe.

Naboo handed Howard a copy of the supply list, some money and explicit instructions. Quietly Naboo said to Howard, "Good work." But it was so fleeting Howard was almost sure he did not say it. Howard smiled inwardly.

"So, I'll just be off," Howard told them.

"Hey!" Vince objected. "Wait for me! I've just got to change to a traveling outfit, freshen up my eyeliner, straighten my hair, reapply my nail polish, check the Fashion Forecast…wait!"

"No time for that, Vince." Howard opened the shop door and stepped outside into the early morning. He called back, "I've got an important mission to perform for Naboo. A quest does not wait for nails to dry."

Vince looked to Naboo. He had said he wanted them to open the store. "Go on then," Naboo told him. "If you don't go with him, who knows what he'll bring back here."

Vince wasted no more time and joined Howard. Together they would survive anything life threw at them.

The unlikely pair traipsed down the street together garnering stares to which they had become inured. Vince looked in all the clothing store windows, and was caught by every pretty sight but still managed to match Howard's purposeful gait.

Finally they arrived at K'hoohoo's Shop of Magic and Vacuum Sales and Accessories. They entered the store, a stark contrast to the Nabootique.

It appeared to be abandoned, but the door fell open readily. It was clean and empty save for one black counter which was topped by a smoky glass display case that refused to give up any glimpse of its contents. Bluish lighting emerged from the floor in a few places along the naked walls.

"Is anyone here?" Howard called out. "Mr. Hieronymus?"

"Odd," Vince said. "I expect Naboo didn't know they had left."

As they turned to leave they saw with confusion that the door had completely disappeared.

"He he he he he!" came a cackling giggle from the back of the store. "I just love that trick. Get's 'em every time."

"Ah, we're looking for a Mr. Hieronymus," Howard's voice wavered. "We have this list of items to purchase."

The list was abruptly snapped from Howard's hand by a tall wizard. He was intensely handsome and commanding, draped in brocade and sequined robes reminiscent of Naboo's garb, but much finer.

"Is that loser Naboo still hacking around with magic?" he asked with no interest in an answer.

"We would like the ingredients on the list, sir," Howard requested.

"Hmm. Let's see. Wing of Griffin, Eye of Gargoyle, Toe of Tree Frog and toothpaste." Hieronymus read to himself. "What's he playing at here?"

"Please, sir, we would…"

"Are you still here?" Hieronymus shot at the hapless pair. "Oh, sorry. Yes. The door. What happened to you?" he asked Vince.

Vince blanched with embarrassment. "I told you I needed the time to change, Howard."

"Well, no matter." Hieronymus waved his hand and Vince was immediately back in form, complete with a wickedly ornate jacket from Top Shop.

"Thanks mate!" Vince said as he admired himself in the mirror that appeared from nowhere.

Hieronymus cast a glance at Howard. "There's nothing I can do for you, Harold."

"Howard!" he corrected. "How did you almost know my name?"

"Whatever. These supplies are not readily available. Many of them are on backorder, and some cannot be bought for love or money."

"This outfit is brilliant," Vince told him with glee, oblivious to anything but his own appearance.

"Of what use are you two to Naboo? Are you his errand boys?"

"I am Howard TJ Moon, Jazz Maverick, writer, actor…"

"I'm an errand boy," Vince burst in, still admiring his new ensemble. "Howard's a wind bag."

"I see. Well, then I have an errand you could do for me while you wait for these supplies."

"We have to get back to the Nabootique." Howard attempted. "Jazz records don't sell themselves, you know."

"You've got that right," Vince said quietly. "They don't even sell with you trying to sell them."

"Well, Naboo is still expecting us back…" Howard stated.

"Nonsense. I can bend time and space. Naboo is too stupid…I mean, he'll never miss you. You'll be back before you've left."

"Well…"

"You want to know what's in it for you, eh?"

Howard waited and Vince was finally paying attention.

"It's simple. You do this for me and I let you keep your immortal souls. Fair enough?"

"Howard TJ Moon does not respond to idle threats, sir."

"Easy!" Vince broke in. "I'm sure we can work something out without that nonsense."

"Excellent. I knew you would see it my way," Hieronymus gloated.

tbc…

Please review. Thanks!


	16. Life's a Beach

Hieronymus Boosh  
The Second Level

Part 1

The door reappeared behind them, and Vince and Howard were thrust unceremoniously onto a glaring sunlit beach. Instead of the familiar concrete world of the city, they found themselves inexplicably buffeted by strong winds and a rush of salt spray blowing off the turbulent waves. Thick black clouds burgeoned across the scene and engulfed the suddenly waning daylight. Vince turned up the collar on his thin, but stylish coat and shivered. Howard was warm enough, but the shock still made his blood run cold.

It was a chilly late autumn day and the shore was abandoned save for a few stragglers, mostly people jogging with their canine companions. No one glanced at the startled duo, despite their odd appearance and their unusual attire. Neither was ready for a day at "da shore".

A young couple flew a colorful butterfly kite which fluttered in the strong wind, and soared like a bird of prey catching rides upon the thermal lifts.

"I don't think we're in Shoreditch anymore Howard."

"What's happened? How did we get here?" Howard questioned futilely.

"I'm sure I don't know," Vince told him as he struggled with his heeled platform boots in the soft sand. "I've got to get off the sand," Vince said urgently.

"What's wrong?"

Vince shot Howard a daggers look of "Isn't it obvious?"

Howard sighed, looking about. "It's always so simple for you, isn't it? Hair. Clothes. Image."

Vince ignored Howard's criticism. He really wanted to get off this beach. Howard really wanted to be back home, but first things first.

"Fine, let's go." Howard began walking, but after a few strides he realized that Vince was not able to follow. Vince looked silly and off balance his booted high heels sinking into the beach.

"You see, Vince? This is exactly what I've been telling you all along." Howard sighed.

The kite hummed overhead and dove toward Howard, just missing his back. Vince was too preoccupied with his plight to notice.

"Oh, come on Howard. Stop talking and help me out."

"I should leave you here," Howard railed, "just to teach you a lesson."

The kite whirred past Howard's head, barely missing him, but the whooshing wind sound covered the sound of the close call.

"Fashion is only a passing fancy Vince," Howard lectured. "It has no substance and it won't help you out of this sort of predicament."

Vince continued flailing about and it finally dawned on Howard that his mate was about to fall over. He did not want to hear the complaints and deal with Vince attempting to remove sand from his outfit and hair.

Howard moved toward Vince in the very instant the kite lunged toward him. Flashes glinted off of the razors embedded in its edges. Howard set about trying to right the dark haired man. Instead of slicing its target, the flying killing toy collided with the hardened sand and was ripped asunder by the impact. Vince and Howard were unaware of its fate, preoccupied as they were with their trivial complaints. They completely missed the fact that the broken kite failed its murderous mission and ended in gritty demise.

Together the pair wobbled and teetered toward the boardwalk. Vince leaned on Howard who continued his insipid rant against the dangers of fashion and the merits of practical apparel.

"Do you realize that there was a rash of injured ankles of epidemic proportions during the late 1970's that was directly linked to platform footwear," Howard drowned.

"Howard," Vince attempted as they finally reached the weather worn stairs and clambered to the top. They both sank down on a bench, exhausted from their harrowing struggle with Vince's footwear versus nature.

"How long have you known me, Howard?" Vince began.

"I dunno anymore," Howard said honestly. Was there ever a time when they did not know each other?

"Have you ever known me to deliberately and knowingly commit a fashion faux pas?"

"I…I don't…How would I know?" Howard stumbled.

"Never! I'm not going to start today, so please can we work out where we are and what we're supposed to be doing here for that Hierogomus character."

"Hieronymus. Don't you ever pay attention?"

"Whatever," Vince said with annoyance.

They began to study their surroundings. They appeared to be at a seaside resort city of some kind with garish lighting and grand architechture. Looking up the Boardwalk they saw towers looming up against the sky. Colorful chase lights and flashing animated signage beckoned the pair, so they began a sojourn toward the bustling center of activity.

One particularly obnoxious telly-style billboard sign flared continuously revealing entertainment options of all sorts. Stevie Nicks was playing at a place called Borgata Hotel and Casino. Lenny Kravitz would be there also. It did not take the pair long to see on the signage that they were in the middle of Atlantic City, New Jersey in the United States.

Howard started to hyperventilate and Vince was none too pleased either, (except he wanted to see both performers). The duo always wanted to go to America, but they envisioned their entre into the States to be quite different. They thought they would be arriving in style, received as entertainment gods, rose petals strewn in their paths. Instead they were brusquely plopped in the middle of this strange place without a clue.

The pair continued to wander the boardwalk, in awe of the noise, crowds and garish lighting and décor. Vince stopped at every clothing store and bauble shop and gawked, causing Howard to tug his arm and keep them moving.

"Vince, do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Yeah, I get watched all the time," Vince smiled. "I like it." Vince smiled at a pretty blonde girl who was staring at him without the ability to look away.

"I don't mean that way," Howard groaned. No matter where they were, Vince was the center of attention. Nothing ever changed. "I mean like someone who doesn't like us is…Oh forget it."

Vince was smiling at a whole group of beautiful Yankee ladies who were giggling as they admired his looks.

"Alright, ladies," Vince began, as his charms shined brighter than any display in the town.

"Ooo!" squealed one. "He's British!"

"Never mind that," intoned a dark haired girl in a sexy alto. "He's perfect."

"Cheers," Vince answered with a smile at the compliment just a tad embarrassed by their effusive attentions.

The group of women gathered around Vince and began chatting with him. Meanwhile Howard was casting about for the watcher he felt was near. He saw a hint of something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned toward it, whatever or whoever it was, was long gone. There were so many flashes, shimmers and shakes that nothing in the scenery made any sense. Howard felt cold, hungry and discouraged. How could they get out of this one? They had only a few pounds from Naboo or had they given that to Hieronymus?

Howard felt inside his pocket. There was a single plastic disk with a note that said: "Take Vince!!! 17 – 3rd 12 – red – odd - 27 Let it Ride on 27 3x." The Chip bore the emblem of Caesar's Atlantic City with the likeness of "Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius" and a picture of some Roman ruins.

The ladies had invited Vince for a drink and he began walking off with them to a posh club with an entrance next to the main casino.

"Vince! Where are you going? Ahhh, I don't believe this," Howard moaned. Howard ran after his mate with his newly minted lady friends.

The moment Howard moved to follow Vince, a large piece of electric signage crashed to the ground behind him. In the chaos of the crowd and the din of the club music, Howard did not hear the awful screech of torn metal and the clatter of smashing glass. He was unaware of the dangerous electrical hazard that had just been unleashed inches behind him. He followed Vince into the club only to be stopped by the bouncer.

"Where are you going? This is members only!"

"I'm with him!" Howard pointed at Vince who had blended into the scene without a hitch, as if he were always a part it. The girls were enamored of him, and he already had a fancy cocktail in his hand. Howard could see a slice of orange and a pink umbrella sticking out of its frozen golden contents and he realized he was hungry and thirsty.

"Nice try buster. Never heard that one befo'," said the sarcastic hulk in a thick New Joisey drawl. "Now get out."

Howard was shoved outside, the force nearly toppling him to the ground. He lost his balance and stumbled into a group of elderly blue haired ladies and knocked their buckets of quarters to the ground. He was properly punished for his clumsiness and struggled to escape their pummeling of him with their overstuffed, coin laden handbags.

"Thanks Vince," Howard said with disgust to no one as he got back to the boardwalk. "If it weren't for me, you'd be a piece of plastic right now."

Howard panicked, remembering the chip. Luckily it was still on his person. He cast a glance up and down the boardwalk looking for Caesar's which was not difficult to find. The small amount of money that Naboo had given him would hardly get them back to England, but maybe he could fill his stomach with it. Surely there would be someplace to exchange it for American cash. When he reached into the pocket where he had Naboo's money he found nothing but lint. Hieronymus had taken the money for Naboo's supplies. It was difficult to remember, but it seemed to be that way.

"I'll deal with you later, Vince," Howard said, again to no one. "Meanwhile, Howard TJ Moon will ply his vast skills as a master gambler. 'Take Vince' indeed. He can find his own way home."

Howard boldly stepped into the gaping maw of the casino by way of an outsized revolving door and was overwhelmed by the cacophony of clanking quarters and the din of retirees rigorously yanking handles of one armed bandits. Flashing lights pierced the darkened room. Each display seemed to distract from each other distraction and Howard's head spun like images of fruits in the slots. He was pushed and jostled by the herd of gamblers, mostly tubby, middle-aged Americans, oblivious to Howard's plight. He attempted to compose himself and search for something which corresponded to the strange message on the note.

He soon arrived in another vast area populated by a sea of spinning wheels on green tables. Through a hole in the crowd, he could discern that the numbers, colors and sections referred to on the note seemed to match those in the game. He observed for a brief time before his ego got the better of him. He surreptitiously glanced at the paper as he pulled the single chip from his corduroy pocket.

"Place your bets," the croupier prompted in a firm voice.

Howard found an opening and placed the chip dutifully on 17.

"No more bets," the croupier announced, as he spun the wheel. The marble was unleashed and clanked around then chose its place.

To Howard's delight his number won and he received a pile of chips in return. It was still not enough to get them anywhere, but heartening nonetheless.

He placed the chips on the "3rd 12" position and was rewarded for his obedience. A few ladies were smiling at him, which swayed his ego further. He knew what he was doing, he told himself. He ignored the fact that this was the first time in his life he had even been in a casino, never mind "master" gambler.

He thought he would pick a single number, so he disregarded the note and chose "7" thinking it sounded lucky. The wheel nearly audibly laughed at Howard's newfound confidence. The chips were gone and Howard was jostled away from the table in a daze.

Dejected he made his way to the boardwalk. Rain began spitting in the late afternoon and Howard felt the pelting drops hit his face. The cold dampness made him dig his hands into his pockets only to find another note that had not been there before.

"Idiot! This time, bring Vince and do not stray from the numbers!"

The note spooked him and he tossed it away. Someone was not only watching, they were communicating with him through magic. Was it Naboo? If so, could he help them? Was this his way of helping?

He heaved a deep sigh and set off to find his mate. His best mate who had ditched him in a strange country for a group of giggling girls. Typical.

tbc…  
Please review. I know people are reading. :)


	17. I Like the Pretty Colors

Hieronymus Boosh  
The Second Level

by AnitaLife

Part 2

Vince was enjoying the attentions he was getting from the ladies. The froufrou, maraschino cherry bedecked drinks were going to his head. Must make 'em stronger here in America, he assumed. He looked around, thinking he had Howard in tow, but soon realized that his mate was missing in action. He told the girls he had to find Howard, but they would not listen. It soon became apparent that he could not avoid their attentions. It was a gentle prison, quite lovely, but it was a prison none the less.

"Ladies, I have to leave and find my mate" Vince told them.

"You can't leave without meeting our leader," a cute red head insisted.

He was flanked on all sides by the women, who were herding him toward a large pair of padded doors near the back of the club. He realized that no other people besides the gaggle of girls were in the club, except for the bartender and the bouncer who loomed at the only exit like a stone sentinel. He began to get a bit nervous.

"I've really got to go," Vince attempted to insist. It was now completely clear that he was in their thrall, the drinks weakening his resolve. Why did have to leave? Where was he going? He was no longer sure. He forgot for the moment.

The girls opened the doors and pushed him into a large chamber that was decidedly not decorated for a party. The temperature was high and the humidity made breathing difficult. Golden light bathed the room with an occasional spot of blue and green. A few of the women had entered the room with him, the doors bolted behind them. They were no longer smiling and friendly. That ruse had been dropped.

At the center of the room was a shape veiled in cascading curtains of golden toile. Vince could discern some movement through his blurry vision. It reminded him of that Atlas character that held up the world. That world began to turn. A part of the veil was opened to reveal a beautiful face. She smiled at Vince, a smile that angels would envy.

"Welcome," she said in a rich voice.

"Alright," Vince greeted tentatively.

"What is your name, little one?" she asked like a mother.

"I'm Vintch. Vintch Noir, rock and roll schtar," he informed her with a slur.

"Well, hello Vintch. Vintch Noir, rock and roll schtar," she mimicked. "I am called Polly Headra and I have been waiting for someone just like you for a very long time."

"Really? That's really nice. My friend, Howard..." Vince started, slurring a bit. "He always gets into danger when I'm not around to look after him." The room spun around him. Drinks never bothered him this much before.

Polly Headra's globular head seemed to revolve. When she stopped, a very different face appeared between the diaphanous curtains, a very annoyed face.

"You will not leave us so soon, my pet. You've just arrived. You…" she stopped herself, not wanting to frighten the boy.

The giant head spun again, revealing a face similar to the first sweet one, only this one was more motherly.

"You look pale my dear," face three stated. "We'll make you dinner."

Vince could hardly object, as within moments a table was set before him and he was pushed into a chair. Weakened as he was by the drinks, he could not fight. The meal looked tempting and Vince found that he was very hungry. There was nothing else for it; he tucked in and filled his stomach. The food was wonderful and each bite became more pleasurable than the last.

Polly Headra smiled with a new devious face that Vince could not see, a self-satisfied face. She looked on smugly while the girls rushed around the table, tending to Vince's every need. A purple liquid that bubbled over a fluted glass was given to him and one of the women was seeing to it that Vince drank it down.

It was sweet like liquid candy. He found he could not stop drinking it and it made him feel giddy. Bits of flickering glitter seemed to float down from the ceiling. There were large shambling shapes of light that danced around the room and left rainbow colors in the air behind them as they moved. They looked like gigantic caterpillars made of rainbows, like Chinese dragons at the New Year's celebrations. Fiery flares sputtered up and subsided. The glitter bits turned into gigantic dragonflies that glowed in iridescent colors he had never seen before. They played fiddles, banjos and a xylophone while square dancing in the air. And it all seemed perfectly normal to him.

Vince found himself strolling along, being guided by a few of the girls. He was being brought closer to the multi-faced creature that they seemed to worship. They pulled him up and presented him to the beast.

A girl pushed his black tresses back from his face and wiped the sweat away. He should have been terrified when he saw exactly what Polly Headra looked like, but he was compliant and insensible.

"Oh Great One," one of the older girls spoke, "accept this, the Chosen One as your mate, your husband, your sacrifice."

"That sounds lovely," he babbled. "I like the pretty colors."

Vince tried to make sense of what he was hearing, but the words were incomprehensible at the moment and there was still the small matter of the whirling chartreuse and purple polka-dotted silk dupion armadillo perched on his shoulder that was playing tic-tac-toe with glowing lines in the air and trying to tell him something about investment options in Hawaiian hula girl dashboard ornaments and would he like some spaghetti to feed to the emus?

"Got to askth Howard if iths OK," Vince attempted. "No," he told the armadillo, "the emus can get their own pisketti."

A masked elf that held a raccoon popped up from the floor and the animal threw a green toaster at his head causing pain to shoot through his skull. That sort of thing can never bode well.

Vince's beautiful but dopey face was very near an evil face that revealed Polly Headra's true nature in no uncertain terms. It should have made him run in utter horror but instead he crumpled over and they could do what they pleased with the pile of Vince at the creature's feet.

tbc…

Wanna help Vince and Howard outta this mess?

Please drop me a review.

Thanks so much to the good ladies who have! I REALLY appreciate it.


	18. Pennys from Heaven

Hieronymus Boosh  
The Second Level

Part 3

Thanks to the reviewers! You guys are bestest-est?

Howard was trying desperately to find the club that Vince had gone into. He trod the boardwalk and studied every nook and cranny, but he could not find anything that looked like the place. It seemed to have disappeared.

He walked around an area that was cordoned off with caution tape where it seemed a large sign had crashed. Several utility people were cleaning away the pile.

A group of singers huddled under an awning of a pizza joint belting out some odd sounds acapella. Howard recognized the simple chord structures and even some of the songs they were singing though their renditions were much different than their Jazz counterparts. The group seemed oblivious to the drizzling rain that made Howard shiver. He saw their coffers stuffed with cash and he had an inspiration.

"Are you familiar with the music called Jazz?" he asked them.

"Sure! Hey, 'Skyliners' guys?"

The group broke into a slightly jazzy rendition of an old standard.

"Every time it rains it rains,

Pennies from heaven. (from heaven)

Don't you know each cloud contains

Pennies from heaven. (from heaven)

You'll find your fortunes falling

All over town. (Wah wah wah)

Make sure that your umbrella is upside down.

And the bass sang "Make sure your umbrella's upside down"

(Baby don't you know,)

Trade them for a package of sunshine and flowers. (and flowers)

If you want the things you love

You must have showers.

So when you hear it thunder

Don't run under a tree.

There'll be pennies from heaven for you and me."

Howard chimed in at the break with a scat that surprised the group, but they went with it, no strangers as they were to woodshedding. Even more people gathered around to see the unusual vocals from this rather conservative looking, corduroy clad man with a funny mustache and tousled hair.

Howard let the music take him. He took the advice of the song to heart, because what did he have to lose? He was an ocean away from home, cold, wet and starving with not an English penny in his many pockets. Vince was MIA again, and all Howard had left was music and maybe he had found a few friends of his own for a change.

With his Jazz improv background he could pick up the cadence and structure of the Doo Wop group's arrangement, and he literally did not miss a beat when the boys came back to the regular lyrics. He continued scatting over the doo wop, much to the delight of the newly formed audience. The crescendo came and Howard and group belted out a perfect finish which was met with thunderous applause and even a few twenties and fifties from appreciative listeners who had won some money and felt generous.

"Man, you've got some New Ah'leans soul living in you, boy!" one of the singers said as he clapped Howard on the back. "And you a white boy alla way from England? Hoo wee, that's somethin'!"

"Solid, man!" said a short Italian fellow, as he firmly shook Howard's hand. "You ain't a doo-wopper, but you all right. You's got potential."

There were bear hugs all around, and Howard was taken aback by the American show of affection. But he was happy to receive such a nice response and he forgot that he did not like to be touched, especially by strangers, and for once in his life, he just went with it.

"We're called 'Then Again', a thin, silver-haired fellow told him. I'm Joe on Bass. This is Louie, Lead and Counter Tenor. Got Andy on Bari and sometimes Lead…"

Howard got the full introductions: Electrician Joe, Louie the chef, Andy from Cherry Hill, Gilly the plumber from Philly and Larry the A.C. cop.

"Howard TJ Moon, Jazz Maverick and adventurer, gambler, and general man about town. Good day, sirs," Howard said, with a little formal bow and click of his heels, which amused the Jersey boys. They smirked a bit at what they assumed were Howard's British ways.

"You look like you're down on your luck, friend," Louie said, as he scooped up some cash and handed it to Howard.

"No, really I couldn't," Howard demurred.

"Got ahead, take it. You've earned it!"

"Let's get some pizza," Andy said.

Howard soon found himself warmed by thin crust pizza, and the camaraderie of the group. He nearly inhaled some hot tea, which he really needed as much as anything.

They toyed with a few more tunes, "Blue Moon", "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered", "Secret Love", and a few Howard had never heard before, but he was able to join. A few more tips passed their way and the group was happy to give Howard a sixth of what they earned.

The proprietor and customers welcomed the singing and made requests which "Then Again" was happy to fulfill.

Howard's scatting blended with "Zing Went the Strings of My Heart" another song that "Then Again" did with a jazzy arrangement.

There was a lull in the singing and the boys were feeling sated. Howard had a thought.

"Eh, my mate and I have this special thing we do together," he began tentatively.

Louie stared at him.

"'Mate' means friend in England, Louie," Andy informed him. "Geez, you really should get you some culture. Go on, Howie."

Howard recited their Soup crimp, tentatively at first, but within minutes the guys were going along with him. It felt wrong to do it without Vince, but he persisted. He taught them "Bouncy, Bouncy" and a few others.

The guys wrote down the words on the back of their paper placemats and together they picked up the crimps, much to the delight of everyone in the pizza place. They were rewarded with thunderous applause from the other customers. One guy who was ordering take-out ran to the door and called his buddies in to hear what they were doing.

"Youse guys really got somethin' der, Louie," the owner told them.

"Hey, I knew those songs reminded me of somethin'!" Joe burst then broke into the Name Game.

"Howard!

Howard, Howard bo Boward

Bonana fanna fo Foward

Fee fy mo Moward,

Howard!"

Howard's mouth dropped to his chest, not sure what to make of that.

The group started fiddling with their own crimp, using the Name Game as a base. It was fun, but Howard was missing Vince very much.

Howard realized how tired he was. He was not sure what time it was in England or whether or not he would have "jet lag" in all of this, or was it "having been zapped across the pond by magic lag"?

The group finally got that Howard did not have a room, and within minutes he found he was whisked away to their suite and installed on the convertible couch/bed. They were short on questions. The details of how Howard ended up in A.C. was left for the morning.

He was too exhausted to object and too grateful for their hospitality and he fell into a deep, but fitful sleep. He felt that something was horribly wrong with Vince, but he was too drained to do anything about it at the moment.

He dreamed that his once sunny mate was being engulfed by fast-creeping tendrils of a black, unrelenting vine. It was the kind of nightmare where he was aware, but could not act. Howard could only stand by and watch with horror as the branches gripped Vince's slight frame and tore into his flesh.

Vince was being destroyed, being replaced by a darkened copy. Then Vince's tendrils snapped out and grabbed Howard. His mouth opened in a silent, desperate scream and he was paralyzed with fear.

"It's only a dream, Howard," he could tell himself. "Wake up and it will be over." But nothing could break the spell.

The vivid images plagued his restless mind until he woke, feeling as if he had crashed into the earth. He now felt it even more imperative that he find Vince and find a way to get them home.

tbc…

Will Howard's worst nightmare come true? Will Vince become ensnared by the evil Queen? Will the mysterious assassins succeed in their attempts to destroy the Boosh boys?

Save Howard and Vince…review today! Thanks for reading! Hope you find it amusing.


	19. HiveGottaPersonalitySplittingHeadraache

Hieronymus Boosh  
The Second Level

by AnitaLife

Part 4

(Just silly fan fic. No profit. No claims.

Rating:  
PG, NO Slash.  
They're just friends who go on magical adventures and land themselves in a lot of trouble.)

Vince found himself sheathed in tight-fitting black silken garments that hugged his skin luxuriously. Strands of shimmery deep emerald and black gems hung from the clothing and spilled over his prone form. He admired his attire and wished he had a mirror to evaluate the full effect.

He found himself sprawled across a lavish round bed, ensconced in red satin sheets. He had been bathed, scented and lightly oiled. Instinctively he felt his hair. It was smooth and straight so he was somewhat placated.

Diaphanous golden drapes spilled from the ceiling like waterfalls, surrounding the bed on several sides. The menagerie of insects, flying lights, and toaster tossing wildlife seemed to have abated, though there did seem to be a lot of tea cups and spoons exchanging contact information with their smartphones while humming selections from Gary Numan's oeuvre. At least the crockery and the silverware had good taste in music.

"You have been prepared for our Queen," a beautiful servant girl pronounced at him in a tone which suggested finality to any argument on the subject.

"Al-wight," he greeted insensibly. "Always wanted to meet the Queen."

"You have been chosen to continue the hive," she continued. "You shall service the Queen and then you shall be sacrificed to her. She shall feed from your flesh and imbibe your blood and the cycle will continue."

"This is an American custom then, is it?" Vince babbled. "Do you have any cheese?"

Vince became aware of a large round golden shape moving toward him, but his limbs felt like lead and he could only watch it approach him. Several of the women seemed to be assisting Polly Headra, as she approached the bed.

Her massive head turned and a serious face was presented to Vince, who could only lay there with puzzlement as to the whole proceedings as any given cell of his brain was not speaking with any other given cells of his brain.

"Oh Great One, hear my prayers," Polly Headra began solemnly, praying to her deity. "On this the 12th day of the 29th year of the Nam'onom na nom's rise upon this plane…"

She droned on with her invocation. One of the younger girls blotted the sweat from Vince's brow and he managed an "Al-wight" to her in appreciation. "I'm a rock and roll star, did I tell you?"

"Shhh," the girl hushed him.

"…and in your glory, we serve you."

"It's been a great time, but I've really got to…" Vince could not remember he was supposed to be doing.

"Arise my fair one, my little bit of fluff," Polly Headra commanded, and Vince found himself obeying. The hanging beads on his garments made small chink-chinking sounds as they re-arranged themselves to drape around his body.

"This outfit is really genius!" he managed. "La Croix? Mackie? Is it vintage? Looks vintage maybe."

Polly Headra's pate spun about and stopped abruptly at Annoyed.

"Shut up!" she belted. "You shall now be shown your glorious fate."

Her head spun back to the pontificating face. "Naomi, you shall make the Drone understand his purpose."

"Yes, my Queen," Naomi responded obsequiously.

Vince was lifted from the bed and brought near to the multi-faced creature. A black ostrich feathered robe was pulled onto him by ever-attentive servant girls. Bits of silver tinsel spritzed out from within the feathers and a few unwanted feathers snuck in between his lips.

"Cheers, thanks a lot," he said as he pah-pah-pah-phhhiff'd the feathers out of his mouth. "I have one like this at home," he told them. "Looks lovely over a mirror ball suit. Do you have a mirror? My hair must look a fright. I need to check me eyeliner."

A small yellow transport with a high back wended its way over a little track and headed toward Vince. He toppled over and into the car which twirled around when his weight was added. Beautiful olive skinned Naomi climbed in and sat beside him on the black vinyl bench and handed him another drink. He smiled and waved at the girl, although she was only inches away from him. She did not return his smile, but held her somber facial expression.

"I was on this ride at Euro Disney," he told her.

"You shall now enter," Naomi paused for effect, "The Hive."

"You really shouldn't'v gone through all this trouble on my account," Vince told her.

"You are now passing through the outer strata. This is where the walls are thickest to prevent interference from Earth's massive magnetic fields and from detection by its military's sensors."

"You Yanks are crazy," Vince babbled as he sipped the putrid green glop. To him, it was delicious.

The car came into another large chamber, where hundreds of Workers ran about, performing their duties.

"Ooo," Vince burst. "Are they the pirates? I like the pirates. Genius fashion sense."

"They are NOT pirates!"

"I look smart in an eye patch," he informed her earnestly.

The girl broke her character and sniffed.

"I don't think you'd look smart in anything," she said under her breath.

"It's a small world after all…" he flatted.

"I really don't know how the Queen is choosing her mates these days," Naomi said with disgust. "You are sure to produce inferior spawn!"

"Auk! I hate prawns!" he insisted. "People are always trying to get me to eat them. I'm not eating any prawns, I don't care what you say, mate." *

She ignored him and attempted to continue her mission. "These are the Workers. They ensure that the eggs will be maintained with proper levels of moisture and warmth. Temperatures must be kept within a prescribed range of tolerance and humidity is an essential factor.

"If you look to your left…" she told him.

Vince's dopey head was turned to the right. She took his chin in her hand and spun his head to the correct direction. He stared with unfocused eyes.

"If you look to your left, you will see Stage Two of development, the Larval Phase."

"Ehhhg," Vince said with revulsion as he could make out humanoid faces on the white worm-like creatures. "That one looks like me mate, Leroy. He's well ugly."

"Idiot," she shot. "You are quite easily the most unfit drone a Queen has ever chosen!" Naomi was not even trying to hide her disgust with Vince any longer. Oblivious to her disdain, he continued to flirt with her.

"When the ride is over, d'ya wanna go for a walk on the beach?" He turned on his best smile, which looked like a sick walrus instead of the swain he was going for. "It's a little chilly, but this cape will keep us warm," he grinned like a fruitcake.

"At this point," she began as the car took them deeper into the hive, "the Larval Stage is complete and the Workers cap the young into their individual chambers where they can metamorphose into their respective types."

"Can't type. No good with machines."

"Over here you will see," she started. Vince was looking everywhere but where she was pointing. Exasperated, she smacked him on the back of his head and saying firmly "Pay attention!"

"Wah?" his voice cracked. "You Yankee ladies like it rough," he said as he rubbed the stung flesh. "I don't mind," he smiled. "When in America…"

She twirled up her lips in loathing and continued. "Over here you will see a Queen in development. If for any reason the Queen can no longer perform her duties, there are several candidates awaiting the honor."

"I do like the Queen," he said. "She's a lovely little lady."

"Not the Queen of England, you buffoon!" She shouted. "Now, shut up and listen."

He looked pensive for a moment and Naomi though she has subdued him at last.

"I always wanted to meet the Queen," he told her, seriously.

She glared at him and continued through clenched teeth.

"In this chamber, the Pupas are fully developed and emerging from their cells. They are now Workers, Queens or Drones, depending upon the needs of the hive."

"Polyester gives me hives," he told her. "And I get hives when I don't wear designer. Do you get that? Got to be couture or death."

"Oh, do I get a choice?" she shot sarcastically. "I pick DEATH!"

She was livid with Vince and would have throttled him with her bare hands had he not been the latest Chosen Drone.

Fortunately for them both, the car was climbing back to the Queen's chamber. Naomi shot out of the car as soon as she could.

"Is there a problem," the Queen asked, a stern boss face rotated into view.

"No my Queen," Naomi lied. "The Chosen Drone has been prepared."

"What happened?" the Queen asked, reading her servant's mood.

Vince was still in the vehicle, spinning it around for fun with a leg that hung out from its side. It looked like a car on the Tilt-A-Whirl at the pier down the block.

It took several girls to stop the thing, haul him out of it and bring him before the Queen.

"It's just that…" Naomi ventured.

"Yes?"

"He's an idiot, my Queen! A dolt! A moron!" she burst. "Please, do not destroy me!"

"That's 'simpleton' in English," Vince volunteered.

"That is no matter," the Queen told her. "He will be changed soon enough. The royal food and drink he has ingested are simply taking longer to work on him."

"Are you certain? Clearly, he is unfit."

A horrific, angry face spun into view.

"Question me no more and you shall live!" The Queen burst. "I have chosen him carefully for the highest of reasons!"

The girls said nothing, but the "why?" hung in the air.

"Isn't it obvious?" She awaited their reactions.

The head turned and her next face was that of a girl in love, doe-eyed and goofy.

She squealed, "I think he's just adorable!"

"Cheers, thanks a lot," Vince said. He fiddled with the myriad beads that clinked around him, then passed out again as the girls watched him tumble into a heap.

Another servant stepped into the room exuding panicked urgency and tripped over Vince.

"My Queen," she began as she regained her balance, averting her eyes submissively.

"Yes, Eelleesia? What is it? I was about to begin with the Drone."

"That would not be advisable."

The angry face returned as quickly as the girlish lover face had arrived.

"Do you dare defy me as well?"

"There is an issue with this Drone."

"I know, I know. He's not the sharpest bulb in the tool shed drawer," the Queen said with resignation, a beleaguered face appearing.

"If you proceed with him as he is, your mating would fail and the hive would be lost."

"Well?"

"He is a symbiont, my Queen, or rather one half of a symbiotic system."

Her next look: incredulous.

"He what?"

"Yes, it's true. This one is joined with another. I've never seen anything like this before."

Eelleesia showed the Queen a spy cam picture of Howard, who was blithely adding his scat stylings to "Then Again's" doo wop sounds. Together they were bringing in a hefty amount of tips from amazed onlookers. The crowds knew doo wop, but had never heard anything like this before. The fuzzy moving picture had no sound. The camera kept following Howard's every move, getting in tighter. Going blurry. Pulling back, then in again.

An impatient, petulant face spoke this time. "It's always something around here, isn't it?" Headra moaned. "Is that the one?" she asked, regarding Howard with puzzlement.

"That's the one," Eelleesia confirmed.

Then a look of resolve appeared and said, "There's only one way to fix things."

Her servants stared vapidly.

"We need the whole symbiont. Bring me other one then."

"Yes, my Queen," the girls said in unison and rushed to retrieve Howard, who was oblivious to everything but his scatting singing and the adulation of the crowd.

*(ed: Fielding routine at TCT)

tbc…

If you have any decency, you'll just write "Yo!" or something to let me know you're reading.

It's just a silly fan fic. I make no claims to grandeur, but I do think it's pretty darn funny.

Thanks to the ladies who have reviewed. Much appreciation!


	20. ReUnited

Hieronymus Boosh

The Second Level  
Season Finale

formerly: AnitaLife

Twitter: GrandEclectus

Fandom: The Mighty Boosh  
January 29, 2010  
Ongoing series. WIP

This section is dedicated to Jane who gave me the will to continue. Thanks for your amazing review and for understanding this bit of insane fic.

Thanks also to my Booshie friends at Twitter! xoxoxox

_Notes and disclaimer: Just fan fic. Not for connection to the actual Mighty Boosh. Completely __**NON**__-slash. **  
**_

_**------------------------------------  
**_

"Then Again" finished a rousing set with ringing chords that garnered applause from the crowd. Large groups of appreciative listeners always gravitated toward their unusual sounds. Doo Wop, leading to Scat. Crimping interspersed with the Name Game song. Scat evolving into Doo Wop. The crowds were mesmerized.

Howard still had the nagging feeling he was being "watched", but the accolades and acceptance pushed the notion out of his mind. Of course, he was indeed being regarded from on high, scrutinized by forces he could not begin to comprehend.

Howard was getting antsy about locating Vince, but assumed that his mate was safe and with his new lady friends. He would be the center of attention as always. Howard had visions of Vince laying on silken tuffets, sipping Sapphire Sours with candied orange slices and being fussed over by a bevy of beautiful women, willing to serve his every need. The berk. Howard did not know how right he was, but how wrong it was for Vince who was getting all those things, but only because he was on the menu.

Howard was still striving to get some cash ahead to try to get them back home. Barring that he could at least earn enough so that they could to the casino—together this time—to win the money the instructions seemed to imply that they would. He needed Vince for that. He did not want to be chided again by another creepy communication from the mystifying inscriptions. Once was quite enough of that, he thought.

Most of all, Howard was just enjoying himself. He had done some gigs with Vince, but the response was limited. After the Velvet Onion Crimp Off, the _über_-trendy audience soon became bored with their weekly chants. Once he and Vince had fallen out of favor with the hipsters—well, crimping was so 5 seconds ago— the Flighty Zeus vanished as quickly as they had reared their look-alike heads, so it was not as if he and Vince had that competition any longer.

But this…this response from a crowd was heady and exciting. They liked him. They really liked him, Howard TJ Moon and they liked his scatting. He was essential to the group's new success. Could this be "it"? Could this finally be his big chance at stardom?

It was decided that he would join "Then Again" at their performance that evening, opening for The Cavalcade of Doo Wop. The line-up included Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, The Capri's, The Dupree's, The Tokens, Kenny Vance and the Planatones, Norman Fox and the Rob Roys, and Johnny Maestro and the Brooklyn Bridge and a host of others. "Quiet Storm" was going to be there as well, a new group who were "keepin' da sound alive".

Howard was elated about the acceptance he was getting from the "Jersey boys" as they jokingly called themselves.

"Frankie and da Seasons Four…they still da originals," Joe told him. "Accept no substitutes from Broadway."

"Ah, lighten up Joey," Andy shot back. "These kids today need that to get them to the good stuff. So they got Frankie winkin' at Gaudio. Big deal."

"Sacrilege!" Joe insisted jokingly.

The group donned their glittery costume suits that they would be wearing that evening. Each outfit was a different color from the 1950's palette. Foam Green, Sky Blue, Peach Melba, Lemon Yellow, Lavender and Howard wore '57 Cadillac Pink. Howard could not believe he was wearing sequins. He missed his cords, but hey, this was showbiz. He felt more comfortable in this than in some of the weird get ups that Vince foisted upon him. No Camden Leisure Pirates tonight.

As they sang Howard and the boys noticed a group of unbelievably beautiful young ladies sidling up through the crowd. The guys loved the rapt attention from the beauties and Howard felt his chest swell with pride.

"Oh ye-ahh," he congratulated himself. "Howard Moon has not lost the golden touch."

At a break the girls started gushing over them. Would they like to have a drink with them? Before they knew it they were strolling down the boardwalk, a girl or two for each of them.

"I'm a married guy," Andy objected at first.

"So am I," Gilly said. "It's just a drink."

Howard had been straggling behind the group, enjoying to the female attention to the Nth degree. He could not believe it. He had found two very beautiful young ladies who were avid jazz fans and hung on his every word. What a stroke of luck. They listened with rapt attention as he discussed chord structures, histories of Jazzmen and characteristics of what made for a good solo on slap bass. Howard was enjoying the sound of his own voice so much, he did not see the two girls mugging at each other, laughing behind his back.

Howard's hopes of finding Vince leaped up when he saw the club again. Delighted that he could find Vince at last, he burst ahead toward the smallish sign which read: "The Hive-a-Way". The club's building appeared to have a large fiberglass beehive as a roof, like a Bee Cathedral. It seemed to be lit from within, an odd green light that glowed and pulsed to a regular rhythm. Howard had no idea why he could not find such a monument before, but he was glad to see it now.

Howard's abrupt burst was quite a lucky move since unbeknownst to him, a golf cart careened toward him with murderous intent. Howard barely noticed the vehicle until the resounding "crack" and the commotion that ensued when it ran into a pole, flung off the Boardwalk into the sand then exploded in flames.

But, flaming golf carts were of little interest to Howard who could not wait to get inside to see if Vince was still there or if someone there knew where he had gone. He soon got his wish. After a couple of strong drinks for each guy, the group was thrust into the Queen's chamber.

They all gasped when they saw Polly Headra looming above a very nonchalant Vince. Howard's friend was be-decked in the black crystal beaded costume trimmed with ebony ostrich feathers, Priscilla Queen of the Desert gone Goth. He lolled languorously on a silken draped amorphous couch. The creature drew nearer to Vince, her appendages encircling his small, thin frame. She looked as if she was about to take a bite out of him.

"Get away from him, you bitch!" Howard yelled. He surprised himself with his brazen verbal attack. He tried to run, but his limbs did not go with him.

"It's OK Howard," Vince said slowly. "She's my friend."

"Your wah?" Howard's voice cracked. "That thing is your friend?"

The group stared at the tableaux before them. They were as puzzled by Vince as they were by the creature.

"Vince?" Gill asked. "Funny name for a girl."

"Yo, Howie, you didn't tell us Vince was your chick."

"She hung over?" Louie asked.

"Eeesh!" said Joe quietly. "I guess love is blind, eh fellas?"

"Woo wee, ya got that right," Louie replied. "Dat is one homely woman! Can she cook?"

"Guys, I'm not so sure that's a girl," Andy said.

"I'm not so sure I care," said butch Larry in the lavender suit, which caused the group to stare at him.

"Take these fools to the chamber, and prepare them as nourishment to the hive!" Headra commanded. "Bring me the blood of the symbiote Harold!"

The personnel of "Then Again" proved no match against the inhuman strength of Headra's henchgirls. The group was easily whisked away with only a small scuffle and a few muffled screams as Howard watched in horror.

Vince bopped up from his recumbent position and sauntered over to Howard, who was holding his head and feeling the full effect of the powerful Royal Jelly.

"Glad you could make it, Howard. I was worried about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it. Vince, what's going on? What is that thing?"

"Howard, I want you to meet my new lady friend, Polly."

"Your who?"

"Polly is a Hive Queen from another planet. I'm going to be the father of a new race and we're planning world domination," Vince laughed and put his fists to his hips. "Imagine that."

"Vince, she's a monster…"

"Shhh! Be quiet, Howard! Don't hurt her feelings. She's just big exo-skeletoned*."

"Vince, what's going on here?"

"I thought you would be happy for me. I get to wear this genius outfit. Looks like a Mackie. She made it herself from her own secretions. She's very talented." Vince stepped back and posed for Howard's benefit while the crystal beads swished and clinked together as they moved.

Howard was trying to piece the whole mess together through the haze of the drinks he had been given. Fifteen minutes ago he was on the Boardwalk, scatting for the life of him, making money and feeling great. Now he was staring at his best mate who was in the clutches of an over-grown insect with a hundred faces and a penchant for garish fashion. Ever the glowing optimist, Vince seemed oblivious to his own plight. The concepts swirled around in Howard's brain: Hive Queen from another planet? World domination? Apparel made from body secretions? That could not be hygienic.

"Vince, you're not in your right mind!" Howard said.

"Who were those guys, Howard?" Vince asked.

"Ah…they're my…," Howard hesitated guiltily, as if he were found cheating on his wife. "They're my group."

Vince's smile dropped and he slowly blinked in disbelief. "Wah? You're in a band? Without me?"

"I was going to bring you in," Howard conceded, "as one of the backup singers."

"Backup? One of?" Vince said indignantly. "No way Howard! I'm the dynamic front man. You know that."

"Well, I just don't think you'd fit in with them."

"Don't be ridiculous, Howard," Vince slighted. "I fit in with everyone who's cool and people in bands are cool."

"They…We do 50's music. With scat," Howard shot as if he were ripping a bandage as fast as he could to reduce the pain.

Vince looked as if he'd been struck by a gigantic pair of wet lederhosen, had a raft of rubber duckies dumped on his head and eaten several bowls of rather crusty potato salad. His mouth hung open.

"You could NOT… have just said… '50's' music, Howard." Vince arched his back and shook his head away as if he could exorcise the idea away.

"And we've got a show tonight," Howard winced with guilt. "It's going well. People really like what we're doing. I'm scatting. We're even using crimps. I've been making a lot of money on the Boardwalk, even though the money split six ways." Howard's voice trailed off.

Vince shook his head and pursed his lips. He was hurt and disgusted.

"Vince, it's the New Sound we'd been looking for."

Vince started to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. He could not believe what he was hearing. Howard had joined a musical group. Without him. Crimping with other people? Making money? Without him! And it was 50's music. It was too horrible to contemplate.

"Howard, you _know_ how I feel about this," Vince said, rolling his eyes. "There is only one thing in the universe worse than Jazz," Vince said softly, the emotion so low in his chest.

"I know you think that, Vince, but…"

"The only thing that's immeasurably worse than Jazz…I can't even say it. It's the unspeakable. I never even allow myself to _think_ of it." Vince heaved a shaking sigh.

"You're ridiculous," Howard said. "I'm finally having some success…"

"Wait!" Vince said hopefully, a giant grin returning to his face. "This is a joke, right? You're getting me back for something I did."

"Why? What did you do?"

"Well, I…" Vince went through a list in his mind, but held back from volunteering anything.

"Vince don't you see? It was meant to be. I'm finally making it big! In America!"

"Ahhh," Vince groaned. "Fine," he pronounced with disgust. "But don't come crawling to me when you fall on your face."

"Oh yeah? Don't you worry about that, Sir."

"Oh really."

"I won't need you because I won't be falling on my face. Not this time!" Howard spat.

"Ha!"

"You can't stand seeing me have a little success, a little sugar for Howie baby. That's it, isn't it?"

"You're delusional!" Vince retorted. "Howie baby?" he echoed in disbelief.

"You're jealous!" Howard accused.

"You're insane!"

"You have always held me back. Stood in my way. Well not this time, Sir!" Howard said with certainty. "This time Howard Moon is going all the way."

"To the asylum!"

Polly Headra's curious face was observing the two men with the interest of a scientist studying amoebas in a petri dish. All around her were piles of tiny booties and her fore-claws were clicking wildly as she turned out her knitted product.

"Don't be long dear," Headra's sweet face requested. "We've got to begin the mating cycle and I'm getting a bit peckish."

"Right there, luv," Vince cooed.

"Jealous? Ha! As if!" Vince scoffed. "When we start the New World Order, I'll see that you and all your dreadful noise, Jazz and all, is wiped off the face of the planet."

"I'd like to see you try!"

"I'll do it. That clamour is only good for removing paint and unwanted varnish from decrepit furniture!"

"New World Order?" Howard asked.

"Yeah, you like it? That was my idea. Catchy branding."

"Original," Howard snarked. "I've had enough of you and your New World Order," Howard informed him. "So you and this big bug are taking over the Earth, is it? Don't make me laugh."

Vince sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Besides, there isn't going to be any World Domination for you, you idiot. Can't you see that?"

"What are you on about?"

"You never listen to the lectures, do you?" Howard said with annoyance. "Anyone can see she is clearly related to the order of Mantodea."

"_Second cousins," Headra interjected quietly._

"Note the forelimbs, where she holds her prey."

"So? We'll have unusual in-laws."

"So…we just reviewed this last Thursday, Vince." Howard chided. "Mantodea, praying Mantis. She's a sexual cannibal."

"I don't mind that. I'm a bit kinky myself. I like to experiment."

"You'll be kinky when you're being digested. She's going to eat you, you tit!"

"Don't be absurd."

"Fine, let's say you're going to be King of Earth, as if that could happen. You couldn't run a popsicle stand!"

"This from a man with a trunk full of leftover elbow pads!"

"I'll autograph those and sell those easily at our gigs!" Howard insisted. "They'll be collectors' items."

"Right. All the rage on Ebay." Vince said with sarcasm. "And what are you wearing, Howard? You look like a strawberry Chuppa Chup."

"How dare you! You're a refugee from the House of de Sade."

"You wouldn't know _haute couture_ if it hit you between your tiny eyes!"

"It always comes down to that with you, doesn't it? Clothes. Maybe the Fashion Police will get it right someday and catch up to me."

"As if!"

"Fashion: a fleeting pile of rubbish that has to keep changing from minute to minute because it's so awful. And you spend all your time trying to keep up with the trends. For what? I mean, who are you trying to impress?"

"I don't keep up with trends, Howard. I make trends!"

"I'll have you know Sir that this is the finest the old US of A has to offer a Doo Wop group member," Howard said proudly.

"Don't use that word!"

"What? Doo Wop?"

"I mean it, Howard!"

"Doo Wop. Doo Wop. Doo Wop. Doo Wop Doo Wop!"

"You are such a child!"

"I'm a child? You look like Peter Pan from Hell."

"Doo Wop. Doo Wah. Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum. Doo Wop…"

"Stop it!" Vince held his hands to his ears.

But it wasn't Howard who was "doo wopping". The sound came wafting through the cavernous hive.

Headra's most annoyed looking face swung around in indignation, and her servants rushed to her side.

"What is that dreadful noise?" she demanded. "What is the meaning of this? Guards!"

The sounds grew louder and louder as "Then Again" marched out of the belly of the food chamber.

"Great big pizza pie Ay yi yi yi ya yi yi, Ay pizza…wella wella wella," the lead sang belting out the Rob Roy's novelty record.

Suddenly Polly Headra stabbed out a bitter screech, her many limbs flailing around. Her heads spun over one another like a bowling ball revealing a blur of anguished features. Every one of her faces reflected the same shock and agony. Her legs lashed out and tore down the curtains surrounding her to reveal her enormous segmented body.

The high floating tenor voice echoed and pierced the corridors. "Ooo ooo ooo eee eee eee ahh ahhhh…"

The bass sound rumbled through the hive's structure and the walls began to vibrate. "Bah bah bah bah, bop bah bah bah bah…"

Vince could make out the familiar sound of "Soup, soup a tasty carrot and coriander…" but the other tones made him feel like he would burn up. He clutched his ears, doubled over and fell to the floor. The Royal Jelly that coursed through his veins had taken over his body and mind. It made the Doo Wop so much more painful.

The other Worker girls began running into the chamber in confusion, looking to Polly Headra who was writhing in pain. The Workers and Drones began to pour out of their chambers and head to the front Club as if the hive had been flooded with a toxic substance, and to them, it had. Many of them were clutching their heads and desperately seeking the exit. Each step shot pain through their limbs.

Howard heard his cue in a song they had been doing then began to scat as the personnel of "Then Again" came walking into the room, singing as loud as they could.

"Well Howie, we thought if we was gonna die, we might as well go out singin'," Andy shouted, then got back into the mix.

"Them crazy broads just fell over and we got free. Who knew? No appreciation for the great sounds," Gilly said with disgust.

"Did you hear that echo?" Larry asked with elation. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"

Howard joined in to strengthen the "Vinny, Vinny, bo binny, banana fanny fo finny mee my mo Minny, Vinny…" section. Howard shouted "Polly" and a Name Game rhyme was made from her name. It sent the giant Queen into more throws of pain.

Howard saw that Vince was clearly suffering, but it had to be done.

"Bop shu doop doo wah. Skiddly oop ip pah da da da ah da. Shooby doobie doop," Howard attacked without mercy.

Polly Headra seemed to be shrinking, her great exoskeleton collapsing in places like a plastic soda bottle being crumpled by a child. Suddenly her thorax arched upward and she turned over on her back. Her many limbs clutched at the air like an upturned beetle as if she could fend off the sounds. All of her faces continued to reflect the great distress she felt.

The hive was falling apart, disintegrating all around them. The walls melted, gushing putrid liquids and the structure beams began to collapse like bones in stew.

They had happened upon the one and only way to defeat this alien menace: a lethal combination of Doo Wop, Scat, Crimping and the Name Game. Nothing alien could live through that. Nothing.

Parliament would have to be informed. Howard TJ Moon would take credit for the discovery of course. He would be heralded as the man who saved Earth from the Alien Menace from Outer Space. Howard imagined the ticker tape parade, meeting the Queen of England, shaking the hand of President Obama, receiving medals and honorariums. Then the Nobel Prize.

A large organic mass splashed down next to him and broke him from his reverie.

"We've got to get out of here!" Howard shouted at the group.

"D'ya think?" Larry shouted back. "Go get your girlfriend!"

Howard ran to Vince who was delirious with the sounds. He scoped him up and carried him like Kevin Costner holding Whitney Houston on the poster for "The Body Guard". He felt very heroic as he and the boys dashed toward the entrance.

Vince was small but sinewy, his muscle mass made him heavier than he looked. His writhing made it difficult for Howard to manage. Howard held tight. He felt Vince go limp, caused from the sound he had just experienced. If Jazz caused Vince to suffer anaphylactic shock, this new sound seemed to invoke seizures.

They managed to get to the boardwalk, their colorful suits covered in glop. Drones and Workers followed in their wake and scattered to the sea.

"Looks like we brought down the house," Gilly quipped. "How's your…ah…friend, Howie?"

Vince was limp, lying on a bench on the Boardwalk. He looked more pale than usual.

"Vince! Wake up!" Howard said loudly as he patted Vince's face.

Vince's make-up was smeared all over his face and down his neck. His glittery suit managed to survive, but the feathers were matted with melted hive matter, as if a barrel of Metamucil had been poured over him.

Large quantities of ugly green and yellow glop oozed out of the hive and gushed onto the Boardwalk and beach.

"Come on, Vince!" Howard nearly shouted as he tried to revive the boy with pats to his face. "Don't do this. Vince!"

Howard was beginning to fear the worst. Vince was limp, unresponsive. Was he even breathing?

Howard fearfully felt for a pulse, but could not feel anything.

"No! Vince!" Howard shouted. These few moments felt like hours and Howard was barely aware that Larry had shoved him aside and began to perform CPR on Vince.

Howard staggered back. He felt like he was submersed in a tub of oatmeal. Had he killed him? Had he killed his best mate?

Under the care of Larry, the cop, Vince began to sputter and cough up some of the green glop. He cleared his throat and was able to sit up. Howard's relief shot through his body like ice water lightening.

"How…ard," he managed to rasp out.

"Vince, I'm here!"

"Howard."

"Yes?"

"I need you to promise me something," Vince whispered, his throat still burning from the ejection of the awful Royal Jelly he had been fed. He gasped in the ocean air.

"Anything, Vince! What is it?"

"Don't ever make those sounds again!"

The group groaned their annoyance.

"You berk!" Howard sighed in relief.

Howard was in a dilemma. He had promised his talents for the evening at least and they both desperately needed the money. But Vince had nearly died because of the lethal combination of Doo Wop, Scat, Crimping and the Name Game.

"I have an idea…" Larry said.

Howard looked up and realized that there was further commotion going on. His focus had been on Vince and the rest of the world was now rushing at him.

Several military helicopters had whisked onto the scene and black-suited Special Ops men were rappelling to the area like Starship Troopers. Other ground support vehicles in the form of several large trucks flanked the hive. Another team of men in white HazMat suits began swarming the wreckage.

"We better get out of here," Andy yelled to the boys.

Before they could leave, a group of Special Ops apprehended them at gun point and hurried them to a chopper.

"I destroyed the hive. Me alone. Howard TJ Moon," Howard tried to tell them over the noise, but the sound of helicopters, trucks, a tank, as well as efficiently barked orders and battle cries drowned out his wan voice.

From within the tattered hive a horrific chorus of shrieks came forth. The military men readied their weapons, bazookas and flamethrowers. The men that had captured Howard, Vince and "Then Again" turned their attentions to the rampaging Queen that had emerged from the collapsing nest.

The military opened fire against her, but even in her weakened state, their weapons had little effect. The boys knew what they had to do. Her head spun and a most ghastly angry face came to the fore. Some of her heads were covered in white glop and looked dead. Others were screeching and some were absent, as if they had been melted away.

"Vince?" Howard asked as he cocked his head to the side. "You have to cover your ears, Little Man. This is a job for Howard TJ Moon and Doo Wop, Scat, Crimping and the Name Game."

"Shut up, you idiot and scat!" Vince shouted. Vince clamped his hands over his ears as he ran toward the ocean, trying to get away from Ground Zero.

Armed with the solid repertoire they had rehearsed for the show, "Then Again" featuring renowned scat singer Howard TJ Moon made their world premiere on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, belting out a deadly serenade to a giant bug from another planet. Each song was broadcast across the globe by the fleet of press that had arrived on the scene who were undeterred by the military. A tourist woman held her phone up and captured images of Polly Headra as her final death rattle was emitted from her many throats. At that moment she smashed the Boardwalk's planks to splinters with her large failing claws.

Ms. Headra was no more.

Across the pond a tiny Shaman sat next to his new HD crystal ball, shaking his head in disgust.

"Bollo say, 'Harold mess up,'" his familiar reminded.

"This is a disaster," Naboo said quietly, his lack of emotions in stark contrast to the statement.

"Bollo miss reruns of Animal Planet over this."

That night Vince sat in the back of the concert, noise cancelling earphones on his head. He had to endure the possibility of his coif being disrupted, but even he had to acquiesce to the conditions. "Then Again" had Howard for one more night, but that was to be the end of Howard's Doo Wop days. Howard and Vince still needed the winnings to get home, which meant they go to a Roulette table at Caesar's Palace and follow the numbers on the paper. The pair not out of the fire quite yet, but for one evening Howard was a star and Vince was recovering from his brush with the multi-headed alien and worse, his nearly fatal ordeal with the most horrific music ever conceived.

tbc….

*The "big exo-skeltoned" joke is from MST3K. It was just too perfect.

_This story is written as a serialization. There are 10 levels; this is the finale for the Second Level. You will see finales, but yes, each section leads the boys right to the next adventure. Section—Adventure. Ending—Adventure._

_A review is an honest, informed discussion of the work._

_**If you're a slasher, please don't bother be offended by my opinions**._


End file.
